Royalty and Magic
by Rhemila
Summary: Set 2 years after season 3. Merlin and Morgana are living completely different lives, but still, their destinies are joint forever. However, destiny isn't always what it seems. More information inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Merlin fans! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.  
**

**This story is set after season 3. Merlin lives in Camelot and Morgana in Tintagel, and although they try to forget about each other, they aren't able to do so. They curse destiny, because that's the reason for their suffering, their hate and their pain. But destiny hasn't always been right, mistakes are made and nothing is as it seems. **

**The first chapters are more the introduction of the story, but this is really going somewhere! :-) So keep reading, because the fun still has to start (and will, from -let's say- chapter 6/7).**

**I hope you'll enjoy it! It is the first time I publish a story on this website, so this is all new for me ;-)  
**

_**PS: The first part of the story will be focussed on Merlin and Morgana, but later on, Arthur and Gwen will also play an important role. **_

_**PPS: English isn't my native language. I'm Dutch-speaking (I live in Belgium), so I hope there won't have written too many mistakes. If I did, please forgive me :-)**_

** Please review ~**_**  
**_

Merlin glanced at the dim reflection of his image in the window. He noticed he had changed. His black hair, waving around his big ears, was longer than it used to be and looked even more messy than usual, which, strangely enough, worked well on him. He had some stubbles on his face and both his shoulders and his chest were broader and stronger than they had been some years back.

"The training Arthur gave me finally pays of", Merlin thought with a faint smile. For a second, he found himself pretty handsome, but immediately after that thought crossed his mind, he shook his head and told himself he acted like a narcissist as he was admiring his own image in the window and liking it.

Voices on the courtyard pulled Merlin back to the real world. King Arthur was giving some instructions to the knights of Camelot. Merlin assumed it'd probably be about the bandits that were causing some trouble by raiding travellers in the Darkling Woods. This morning, a wounded trader had reported a group of ten people jumping out of the bushes and stealing all of his money and wares. It had already been the third case in one week, so Arthur found it about time he send the knights out to see what was going on and to make an end to the raids.

Merlin couldn't help but being pretty proud of that prat who was now King of Camelot, though he knew Arthur didn't feel that way. His master had always been more of a hunter and a fighter than a King, who had to take responsibility and had to rule a realm. Arthur missed his freedom, but he rarely complained. He had to do this, it was his duty and his destiny.

The former King, Uther Pendragon, was still alive, though you could hardly call him 'alive', as he was staying in his bedroom all time, barely eating and drinking, and never saying a decent word. Most of the time, the old and broken man -who once was a proud King- stared out of the window, thinking of the events that happened two years ago. It had made him insane, as he couldn't forget what his daughter, his own flesh and blood, had done. Merlin presumed he, for some curious reason, also did not _want_ to forget.

Morgana...

Hearing her name made Merlin tremble. He supposed he wasn't the only one, because nobody ever spoke of her. It was like she never even existed, as if she had never been born. But her ghost still wandered trough Camelot at the darkest of days. Then the people in the pub would still whisper her name, hissing, like the cunning snake she had been. They would remember her short reign as a Queen and truly say they'd never been more scared than back in those days, when everything seemed to be lost, until the brave Prince Arthur rescued them and killed the witch.

At least, that was what the quickly spread rumours were saying, and it was partly true, despite the fact that it had been _Merlin_ who rescued them (though Arthur wasn't aware of it) and they weren't sure if the Lady Morgana was actually dead. She, and her gravely injured sister and powerful High Priestess Morgause, weren't found under the rubble of the castle, so Merlin and the others who were aware of it, feared they might have managed to escape.

Merlin had been very worried Morgana would've come back to take revenge, especially after her last, menacing words she had spoken to him, full of anger and hate: "This has just begun." But during the last two years, nothing happened. There was no sign of Morgana nor Morgause, and Merlin slowly started to believe that they were actually dead, or at least didn't had the intention of coming to Camelot any more. He would've been pleased with the first option, but the second one was even better, because that meant that Morgana was still alive and wise or happy enough to know that attacking Camelot wasn't going to make her feel any better. Merlin wouldn't wish anyone dead, not even his worst enemy. He just wasn't like that.

He would, however, feel rather uncomfortable during banquets, when he and Queen Guinevere sat next to Arthur. Merlin had earned that privilege after becoming the King's personal adviser (a fair-sounding title, but it meant nothing. Merlin still polished Arthur's chain mail, cleaned his boots, sharpened his sword and was still called an 'idiot', though he had to admit it wouldn't feel right if Arthur suddenly stopped calling him like that), which provided him the honour to sit on the King's left.

Morgana always used to sit on the left side of King Uther.

Although Merlin knew Arthur probably didn't think about that when he gave Merlin his permanent place around the table, it still made Merlin feel awkward, because he knew well he and Morgana weren't as different as it seemed.

"Your futures are joined forever. She is the darkness to your light, the hatred to your love." Those words wandered trough Merlin's thoughts as a mantra.

Both he and Morgana were born with Magic, something which had scared them in the past, before they decided to do something with it. But the choices they made and the directions they took, were completely the opposite.

There were days that Merlin kind of envies Morgana. She was now free to use her Magic whenever she wanted, without being afraid somebody will notice and she will be sentenced to dead. Although Arthur was already a better King than Uther had ever been, and he wasn't as paranoid as his father towards Magic, it still scared him -especially after the Magic his sister had shown to become Queen- and it was still forbidden in Camelot. Merlin still had to keep his greatest secret, and everyday it felt harder and harder to bear.

Sometimes, Merlin thought wistfully how it would have been if he, nor Morgana, didn't have a destiny to fulfil. They could have fled away, to a realm where Magic wasn't forbidden, and they could have learned from each other and enjoyed their gift, without being ashamed for who they are.

He and Morgana would've understand each other.

Instead, Merlin was standing in front of his window, looking down the courtyard. He started to believe that Morgana wasn't dead, nor not planning to attack Camelot, because she still had a mission in this world, a destiny to fulfil, and that was killing Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

Morgana Pendragon glanced at the bright reflection of her image in the mirror. She noticed that she had changed. Her black hair was shorter than it had ever been, it only reached her fine shoulders, and was a real mess. A combination of curls, waves and frizzes gave her an untended look, but she certainly wasn't as shabby as she seemed. Her intelligent, green eyes where sharp and shiny as always and her pale face looked healthier than ever.

And that was how she felt, healthier than ever, and perhaps even happier than ever. She smiled from bottom of heart while she looked at the young, handsome woman who was staring back in the mirror.

If someone would have told her five years back that her life would've been like this, she wouldn't have believed him, she would've been thinking they were mocking her. Her life had taken a direction nobody, except for the gods themselves, could have ever imagined.

Morgause had been a blessing, and she still was. Morgana thanked her knowledge, her strength and even her life to her sister. She cherished every day, and every moment was a miracle. Not a day passed or Morgana surprised herself with her gained powers. The days she saw Magic as a terrible curse were over. It was a gift.

Morgause was a very good teacher. She taught her younger sister, with remarkable patience, to let flowers grow, to make animal shapes in the water, to control the weather, to lit a small fire (which was Morgana's speciality), to move objects without touching them, and so on. On other days, they didn't use Magic, but Morgause told Morgana about the plants and all their abilities. She explained how to make a potion, and when she considered Morgana had paid enough attention, she ordered her to make healing draughts or even love draughts, just for good fun.

When Morgana woke up with too much energy, Morgause would take her outside, give her a sword and fight with her, until the younger of the two grew tired. Morgana had always loved the competition, her childish battles with Arthur, and it felt good to practice her skills with the sword against the best duellist she'd ever known (Morgause had even managed to defeat Arthur, Morgana remembered impressed). Everyday, she became stronger and stronger.

Finally, when it was raining outside or they had had a long training day before, they sat at the fireplace and Morgause told about Magic. She taught Morgana some words in the Old Language and said Magic was everywhere around them, flowing trough all living things, even if they weren't magical. It was a gift to use Magic, to be able to control it. Every sorcerer's Magic was unique. Just as in school, some were good at making animals out of water, and others were better at making animals out of fire. Morgause said that Magic in its purest form was based on the four elements: Water, Earth, Air and Fire. Everyone had their own, personal element. According to Morgause, Morgana's element was Fire.

Morgana couldn't believe that someone as wise and strong as Morgause almost died because of that horrible, little servant who, apparently, had Magic too.

_Merlin_... she despised him with everything she was. If she didn't had to take care for her sister, she would've killed him without hesitation the last time she saw him, when they were in the throne room, and Morgana found out he had Magic. He had caused her enough trouble to hate him for the rest of her life. He had been trying to poison her, got involved with things that certainly didn't concern him and had nearly killed her sister. But that was nothing compared to the fact that he was a sorcerer, just like her.

Morgana remembered the fear she had felt when she accidentally caused a fire in her room. By just looking at a candle, the flames started to lit higher, until they reached her curtains. It was horrifying. It was then she realised she was Magical, and in a light moment, she told Merlin, and he did nothing.

Tears sprung into her eyes whenever she thought of it. Fiercely, she swept them away and shook her head.

She had been thinking Merlin was her friend, but now she knew better. Instead of helping her, he had just let her live in her fear, her loneliness, her embarrassment for being a sorceress, until it consumed her and she chose a path that finally lead her to Morgause and to becoming Queen of Camelot.

Although for a brief moment she did had the ultimate power to decide about life and death

of everyone in Camelot, Morgana's only reason to become Queen was because it would cause an end to Uther's horrible reign.Not a single sorcerer should fear Uther Pendragon now, Morgana's kind was safe. Arthur may fear Magic, but he didn't willingly search for wizards and witches to have them burnt at the stake. Those days were over, and as long as the warlocks were careful, they had nothing to fear in Camelot.

Morgana knew the dumb and naïve people in the city, that used to be her home in a past she barely remembered, thought of her as 'a witch' and 'an evil sorceress', but for _her_ kind, she was a heroine. The Druids and the High Priestresses treated her as their chosen one, their princess, but more important, as _one of them_. Finally, after years of living with the feeling nobody understood her, she had found _her_ people.

After she rescued Morgause, it took months to heal her older sister. But when Morgause was fully recovered, she took Morgana to the High Priestresses, who agreed that she was now officially their apprentice.

"You are very talented, Morgana," Morgause remarked when Morgana was able to open a door by using Magic already from her very first try, "it won't take long before you can become a High Priestress."

"I am learning it from the best", Morgana said, and she meant every word.

Morgana sighed and turned away from the mirror. After such a long day of practising a spell to make a statue come alive (she didn't manage to do it yet. The statue had only growled at her, and then turned away), she was in terrible need for a bath.

"_L__agustréam__ ingéotan_", she murmured thoughtless. She felt the, in the meantime very known, feeling of Magic flowing trough her body as a very short, hot fever that was spreading inside of her. Her eyes coloured gold for a second when she pronounced the spell, and immediately water was pouring into the bathtub.

Morgana undressed herself and stepped into the tub, filled with warm and relaxing water. She smiled sincerely when she thought of the next day, when she'll continue working on the spell for the statue.

This was her place, her home, her destiny. She never wanted to do anything else in her life than learning about Magic and becoming a better sorceress each day.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin walked steadily over the dunes. He heard the soft sound of the sea and the strong waves that were fighting against the rocks in the water. The smell of the endless ocean made him feel calm and brought a smile on his face. He was home.

He crossed the last dune before he saw his house. It was made from wood, but they'd painted it white by using Magic. He saw smoke coming out of the chimney, which was the sign he could expect a very nice, warm meal this evening. She could cook much better than him, he didn't even manage to make a decent soup.

"Dad! Dad!" Merlin heard the well-known voice, it was music in his ears, and he saw a little child running towards the hill he was descending. Her long, black hair waved in the wind.

She stretched her arms to him, and he pulled her from the ground and hugged her tightly.

"Dad, mum has learned me how to make flowers out of nothing", she spoke, proud.

"She did?" Merlin asked surprised, though he most certainly wasn't. In fact, he hadn't expect less.

"Yes," his daughter said, "look." She jumped on the ground and spoke, with a strong voice "_Blost'me_". Her green eyes turned gold and a beautiful, red rose appeared in her small hands.

"That's very nice", Merlin said, impressed. He looked up to the house and smiled when he saw her, his lovely wife and the person he would love forever, standing in the doorway, smiling brightly.

Morgana...

Merlin opened his eyes, shocked by the image he had seen. It had only been a dream.

He sighed and couldn't help but feeling kind of sad. He didn't know what his future contained, but it most certainly wasn't him and Morgana living on the seaside, having a child and being free to use Magic whenever they wanted. Although he never had a dream like this before, he sometimes remembered Morgana before she turned against Camelot. She was a frank and stubborn teenager, but she had a good heart and Merlin knew it was a privilege that he was able to call her a friend. He especially reminded one particular night, already four years back, when he went to her room in the evening after she returned from her short but tensive trip to the Druids. She had been reassured, or so he had believed. She told him maybe one day people would come to see Magic as a force for good. He had smiled and she had smiled back. He felt she knew he understood her and he was going to keep her secret. He had never been closer to Morgana than in those few seconds when they just smiled at each other in the cold night.

It was then Merlin, for the first time in his life, really considered to tell someone he had Magic. He'd got used to keep his secret, but it just felt so _right_ to tell her. He didn't.

There were days it felt like the biggest mistake of his life, and if Merlin didn't know it was Morgana's destiny to become his worst enemy, he would most likely have been knocking himself until he started bleeding, because he had been so utterly stupid _not_ to tell her.

Merlin stood up with a strange feeling in his stomach. He didn't presume it would be easy to forget about his dream.

Merlin left his small room and walked down the five stairs to go to Gaius' chambers. It looked like it always had been: as a complete chaos with only one person who knew perfectly where he had to look.

The old man glanced out of the window. Even with his cane it was hard for him to stand straight.

Merlin saw Gaius becoming weaker each day, and nothing could hurt more than that. Gaius told Merlin it was only a normal aspect of life. His days were over and he was silently waiting for the moment he would close his eyes and never wake up again. It was time for him to go.

"Good morning, Gaius", Merlin said with a sad tone in his voice.

"Good morning, Merlin", Gaius answered. He turned his head and smiled at the boy. "Why do you look so depressed?" His voice sounded old and fragile, but still as kind as always.

"I'm just tired." Merlin scratched in his dishevelled hair. He didn't want to tell Gaius about his dream. It had been too private and he didn't want to bother his oldest friend with something as strange as he and Morgana being together.

"Before you go to the King, would you like to get me some rosemary? Then I can show you this afternoon how you make Uther's medicine", Gaius said. Now Gaius knew his end was near, Merlin would step in his place as the new court physician, but he still needed to learn a lot, and they didn't have much time left.

Merlin nodded and left Gaius' chambers. At the market he bought some rosemary, put it in his pocket and went to the castle, to see if Arthur needed anything.

"Merlin, finally", Arthur said, when Merlin entered the King's room.

"Good morning, Sire."

"Merlin, clean my chain mail, will you? I want it to be as good as new", Arthur ordered. Merlin nodded automatically while he started to make the bed. "Oh, and pick some flowers for Gwen."

"Why can't you do that yourself? She is your wife", Merlin said before he realised he had to keep his bad temper for himself.

"I am the King, _Merlin_. I've got something better to do than picking flowers", Arthur reacted annoyed.

_If he only knew how many times I've saved his life..._

Merlin thought it so often he wondered why he still hadn't yearned it to Arthur. It was true _he_ was the King and most of the time Merlin was pretty proud of him and found he was doing a good job, but on other days, he could just shout at Arthur he had to keep his big mouth shut because he -Merlin- was a powerful sorcerer.

On those days, Merlin wished his destiny had been to be happy, and not to protect King Asshole.


	4. Chapter 4

Morgana opened her eyes. The first light of sunbeams shone trough her window and lit her room. Awake, she left her comfortable bed and dressed herself.

She didn't had nightmares any more, that was something from the past.

She looked forward to today's lessons, 'cause although she hadn't yet succeeded to bring the statue alive, nothing stopped her from retrying it today. She loved to push boundaries and after all those years she had to be afraid that she would accidentally use Magic because she couldn't control her powers, there was nothing she enjoyed more that enchanting freely and concluding she was pretty good at it.

She left her small, though nice and bright room, and went to the living room. Morgause was already awake, as usual. She was sitting in a comfortable chair and was reading a book. When she heard Morgana coming in, she smiled.

"Good morning, sister," she said amiable, "I made you some breakfast."

"Thanks", Morgana said. She sat down at the wooden table, where a freshly baked bread, a can of milk and a honey cake made her hungry by only looking at it. She kept surprised by the fact that Morgause, besides a brave fighter and a talented sorceress, also was a normal, caring, big sister.

Morgana ate silently while she enjoyed the simplicity of the small, wooden house. It was a house the High Priestesses had assigned to them, so Morgause could educate her sister in all peace and quietness. They had everything they need: beds to sleep in, a hearth for when it got colder, a fireplace to cook and a bookcase, full of books of spells, which Morgana read until late at night, until she -utterly exhausted- fell asleep.

They lived at the seaside, with a view on the endless sea. The splashing water of the Atlantic Ocean reached even further than Morgana could look. Sometimes, she wondered what was out there. Some claimed that the world of men ended there at the horizon, and from then on a realm, that wasn't meant for the living, began.

Morgause didn't know it, and if even Morgause didn't, it alluded that it wasn't up to them (yet) to find out.

"Do you remember the spell?" Morgause asked, while she put her book aside when she saw Morgana had finished breakfast.

"_Limw__æ__stm gefæstlíce ábregdan_", Morgana spoke, self-assured. It were complex words, but in the meantime, Morgana had gotten confident at the Old Language and the pronunciation of it, so the spell flew over her tongue like it was her native language.

"Good," Morgause said affirmatively, "though try to emphasize '_ábregdan_', because that's what the spell is all about, bringing the statue alive." Á_bregdan _meant 'come alive' in the Old Language.

"_Limw__æ__stm gefæstlíce – ábregdan_", Morgana repeated, and this time she pointed up the last word exorbitantly, so Morgause would notice she'd understood.

"Better", Morgause smiled. She stood up en gestured to Morgana she had to follow her outside.

The hardest thing about Magic was that it contained so much more than just pronouncing some well-chosen words. More important was the authority and the determination the wizard had to show. Being able was subordinate to _wanting_ in Magic. Only if Morgana really meant to bring the statue alive or if she really meant to lit a fire, she would succeed.

She remembered how she, on a stormy evening back in Camelot, was on her way to Uther Pendragon's chambers after she'd discovered he was, in fact, her father. She had been furious and had sworn to herself that he would pay for the fact he'd disowned her.

Suddenly, her chamber door opened, after she'd hooded her crimson-coloured cloak and had put away her dagger -which she'd got from Arthur for her twenty-first birthday -in her belt around her waist.

It was _him_. As always, _he_ had been ready to thwart her plans.

"What are you doing here?" she'd yelled, surprised, while she felt anger, mixed with Magic, boiling inside of her when she saw his lanky figure standing in the doorway.

"Arthur has send me to look after you", Merlin had said. Of course he lied, she could see it straight away. "He is worried about the intruder." The intruder had been Morgause. She had come down hard on Morgana not to do anything rush now she knew Uther was her father. Morgana, however, had ignored Morgause for the first time in her life, and -as she was in a very reckless mood- was up to no good.

"I don't need you", she'd hissed, while she'd walked past him and headed towards the door.

"He was quite insistent", Merlin said quickly. He'd moved so he'd stood right in front of her, so she couldn't pass.

Morgana felt her anger raising inside of her, as if she was a cup in which someone poured water until she would overflow. She had wanted to hit him hard, but he was stronger and he'd grasped her wrist and pushed her back.

"Get out of my way!" When she'd screamed those words, the hate inside of her was replaced by Magic, and without saying a spell, just because she'd wanted to, her eyes flashed gold and Merlin was knocked against the wall, unconscious.

It had been an impulsive reaction, Morgause explained afterwards, after Morgana had told her what had happened that evening. Initially, Morgana had feared Morgause would've been angry because Morgana hadn't listened to her, but she wasn't. Morgause had soothed and comforted her younger sister, and had even told that only very talented Magicians were able to use such a strong natural, almost elementary, sort of Magic.

Two and a half years after those happenings, Morgana walked into the freezing autumn-breeze with her sister. The wind played with their hair while the grey clouds announced a storm. The sea was wild that morning, and it appeared they wouldn't be able to stay outside for a long time. Morgana sighed disappointed, she had hoped the weather would have stayed stable during the day, so she could've been able to practice the spell without running back inside, hiding for the rain.

Morgause noticed Morgana's displeasure and smiled.

"Don't worry, sister. If you really want to stay outside, then I'll make the sun shine for you", she promised. She tapped Morgana friendly on her shoulder, and now Morgana smiled too. How could she forget? Morgause was such a powerful sorceress that she could even control the weather. She could produce local showers or regional heat waves, which was rather amusing. She once had, to tease her little sister, created one rain cloud that only stormed on Morgana and followed her everywhere she went, even inside the little cottage.

They walked over the dunes. The wind cut trough Morgana's skin and she wished she would have worn something warmer, or at least a scarf. The white shirt, borrowed (received actually, as Morgause didn't wear it any more and it hang inside Morgana's wardrobe) from Morgause, and the black pants she was wearing now, could hardly keep her warm, but she didn't complain, because Morgause didn't complain either.

Morgana could see it already in the distance; a statue, made from brown clay, life size and, with some fantasy, humane. It had a head, two arms, a body and two legs, and that was fair enough. Morgana knew Morgause could've made it more realistic, but this wasn't an exercise in sculpturing (with Magic, of course), but in bringing statues to live.

After some moment, they faced the stony warrior. Morgause looked affirmatively at Morgana.

"After you", she spoke. She stepped aside, so Morgana would've enough space, and looked sanguinely from her sister towards the statue.

Morgana took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She stretched out her right hand, until her fingertips touched the statue, and murmured: "_Limw__æ__stm gefæstlíce ábregdan._" Magic flew trough her body, her emerald eyes turned gold, but -besides the head of the statue, that moved faintly- nothing happened. Morgana sighed, although she hadn't expected she would succeed from her first try.

"As long as you still have a whack, it's better if you say the spell out loud", Morgause advised. She had already told that to Morgana many times, but she didn't sound impatient, she never did. "Try again. Concentrate."

"_Limw__æ__stm gefæstlíce ábregdan_", Morgana spoke, this time foul-mouthed. Again, Magic flew trough her body as a sudden fever and her eyes were coloured gold for some seconds, but nothing happened.

Morgana breathed heavily as she tried to push the fever out of her body, while she felt sweat coming down on her forehead. That was a disadvantage of Magic; when there was a spell she would practice for the first time, her body wasn't used to it yet and initially, she would suffer pain if she tried out a new form of Magic.

Morgause, who was always foreseen on those situations, gave Morgana a flask filled with water, and Morgana drank thankfully.

"Try again, Morgana. I know this is advanced Magic, but you can do this. I believe in you", Morgause encouraged her after Morgana had drank and her body started to stabilise again.

Strengthened by her sister's support, Morgana took a deep breath and stretched out her hand once again. "_Limw__æ__stm gefæstlíce ábregdan._" She stayed focussed as much as she could and tried to have some authority over the statue, as Morgause had taught her. All non-Magical creatures would try to stay like that, but she had to be stronger than all the powers that would try to not be controlled by Magic. She had to force them.

The statue moved faintly, shrugged and then remained motionless.

"Well done, Morgana!" Morgause said, enthusiast. "You made it doubt, you're almost there." She smiled. "Try again. Shout the spell, show who's in charge."

"_Limw__æ__stm gefæstlíce ábregdan_!" Morgana screamed. The Magical boost in her body was stronger than all the ones she'd already experienced that day. She shook as reed and felt how the (naturally few) colour of her skin faded and her limbs weakened, but she also saw how the statue shook his head, as if it had just woken up from a very fast sleep and wanted to push away the exhaustion, and then again stood still, fighting against the Magic and losing.

Morgana didn't think, but yelled automatically, with all force she possessed in her lungs and vocal cords: "_Limw__æ__stm gefæstlíce ábregdan_!"

The Magic, exhaling from her body, was so strong she landed down on her knees. Above her head, she could hear a deep growl. She saw the improvised feet of the statue moving. When Morgana looked up, weakened but also very proud because she knew she accomplished her task, and noticed how the statue of clay stretched out and started to walk, without a purpose.

Morgause laughed.

"Well done, Morgana!" she said happy, while she reached Morgana her hand and helped her up. They both glimpsed how the statue turned around in circles, as a chicken who has just been truncated.

"Is that normal?" Morgana asked anxiously. She started to fear she hadn't accomplish the spell as correctly as she had thought at first.

"Bringing the statue alive is one thing, to be able to control it, is already one step ahead", Morgause explained. "I'll tell you how to do that one day, but first you've got to rest and recover from the Magic."

"Do we need the statue during the following days?" Morgana asked then. Morgause shook her head and smiled because she knew what was going to follow.

Morgana stretched out her hand, for the last time. She aimed at the statue and muttered: "_Ceoselstán lýtlian._" The statue, that was still turning around as crazy, exploded and thousands of pieces from clay landed on the ground.

"It keeps surprising me how destructive you are", Morgause spoke, acting seriously.

"It was only dancing in our way", Morgana chuckled. She knew Morgause was only teasing her.

"You're like a little child that had build a sand castle and has destroyed it afterwards."

"I think it took me more effort to bring the statue alive that it would take me to build a sand castle", Morgana reasoned, still with a sheepish smile on her face.

"That's just another reason you had for _not_ destroying it", Morgause replied, still pokerfaced, but her brown eyes sparkled with pleasure.

"But it has been _you_ was has made the statue, and as a good sister it is my duty to destroy your stuff", Morgana spoke. They looked in each other's eyes for some seconds, and Morgana was the first one who burst out laughing, and Morgause followed her example soon afterwards.

"You're unbelievable, Morgana", Morgause laughed. In the company of others, they would never behave like that, but they were sisters and they cared about each other. They needed each other.

"I know", Morgana smirked.

"I'm proud of you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**I hope you'll enjoy chapter 5. It's a bit longer than the others, and it's still a 'deep-thoughts chapter', but the 6th and 7th will be more exciting :-) (I've already written them, I just have to translate it).**

**~Please review**

Merlin lied down on his bed and there was nothing in the whole world that could give him the motivation to stand up. He glanced at the low ceiling of his room, as if all the answers, he hoped he would hear, where written on it. Tears, he didn't know why they had to come (he had managed so long to keep them hidden), sprung into his cornflower-blue eyes. Bluntly, he turned on the other side, as if he was ashamed towards an invisible person who stood on the opposite side of his bed.

He was about to lose his oldest friend, and there was nothing he could do to save Gaius. Merlin had tried. He had been looking in all the books, searching for a remedy that could give an old man his vitality back, until Gaius had tapped him friendly on his shoulder and had smiled that Merlin shouldn't waste his time with preventing something as natural as dying.

Merlin tried to understand, though he knew he wouldn't succeed. He didn't even dare to think at how much he would miss Gaius if he wasn't there any more. Already from the moment Merlin had arrived in Camelot, as an eighteen year old lad, bursting with Magical talent without knowing how to deal with it, Gaius had taken him under his guard and had taught Merlin everything he had to know about Magic. He had shown him the right path and had kept him there.

At this moment, there were only two people who knew about Merlin's Magic, and that were Gaius and Lancelot, a knight of the Round Table (as the people called Arthur and his bravest knights). But Lancelot could never become Merlin's confidant like Gaius was, they didn't know each other well enough for that and Lancelot -though he was nice- would never come to realise how frustrated Merlin felt because he didn't dare to use Magic, in case Arthur would find out. Lancelot would never be able to understand that it was Merlin's destiny to protect Arthur Pendragon, while no-one needed any protection at all for the moment. Camelot had never been such a safe and peaceful place, but instead of being happy for that, it only gave Merlin the feeling he was useless. He had Magic, and one day it had had its value, but what was it now? Now, he was nothing more than a mistake of Mother Nature, like he had once thought he was, before he went to Camelot and, thanks to Gaius, discovered he was born for a greater purpose.

There were days Merlin had had the same feeling as he had now, but it had never been so turbulent. In fact, he had already planned that, after Gaius' dead (he didn't want to think about it, but he realized he had to bargain for the future and for what he was about to do when he would be on his own), he wanted to ask the Great Dragon what he really should be doing with his Magic. Did he just had to wait until the moment was there to show his secret to Arthur without being afraid that the king would consider him as a traitor and their friendship wouldn't mean anything any more? Because that made him crazy. He didn't want to be a prisoner in his own Magical body any more, but to be free to use his skills whenever he wanted, as that was why he was brought forth.

Merlin closed his eyes and tried not to think about Gaius or tomorrow. Every morning, he woke up with a fearful knot in his stomach. The angst he would descend the five steps from his room to the headquarters and find out Gaius didn't wake up, became stronger every day.

She was so beautiful as she stood there at the lake, laying her eyes on the beams of the sunset in the water. Her alabaster skin created the impression it shimmered when the sunbeams shone on her carved-by-angels face.

"Morgana," he said, delighted to see her, "I've been looking for you."

"You know I'm never faraway", she answered. She turned around and smiled at him. He couldn't help but smiling too. Every time he looked at her, he became the happiest man on earth.

He walked towards her, and together, they stared at the eventide. The sky turned orange and purple, and they were like figures on an impressionistic painting.

Suddenly, she took his hand. Their long, small fingers intertwined and Merlin felt like he always did when she was with him: peaceful and perfect, despite his many deficits. Morgana could bring out the worst of him, but also the very best.

"Once, you were faraway", Merlin spoke softly, continuing the conversation they had interrupted some minutes ago. He sounded sad. He knew very well Morgana had to be out-of-the-way first before she could've become who she was now, but the memory at the time she had been his most wicked enemy and she wished him dead, reappeared sometimes.

"I came back", Morgana answered tranquil. She cupped his cheek with her free hand and looked at him with her bright, springgreen eyes. Once Merlin saw them, he couldn't do anything else but smile and bringing his lips to hers.

Merlin woke up in shock and sat upright in a second, as if he was expecting to see the witch, named Morgana Pendragon, standing in his room, with a dagger above his head.

It took some moments before he was made sure of the fact he was alone in his room and he had only been dreaming.

His thoughts whirled. Merlin tangled and fell back on his pillow, wondering what was happening to him.

It had already been the second dream of him and Morgana in only three nights. He had hardly gotten the image of their daughter out of his mind, and now this.

She must've enchanted him, he couldn't think of anything else. When that conclusion crossed his mind, he had to think at Uther. When Uther was still having all marbles (although, you could already discuss that many years ago), he had been very paranoid towards Magic.

Merlin remembered how he and his three best friends, Arthur, Gwen and -back then still his mate- Morgana had made some jokes about that subject some years back, on a warm summer evening, while they were sitting on the stairs of the citadel and had smuggled a jar of cider outside.

"It's so incredibly hot outside!" Arthur had sighed, as he wiped off the sweat from his forehead.

"That must be the work of an evil sorcerer!" Morgana replied waggish. The four of them giggled, until Merlin noticed they had ran out of cider.

"Now the sorcerer has gone too far!" Arthur yelled, acting angrily.

"Arthur, you stole my joke!" Morgana noticed sniggering, while she hit him softly on his shoulder.

"I didn't! It was Magic!" Arthur defended, laughing. "Merlin, get us some more cider, will you?" He commanded then.

"But look out for the sorcerer", Morgana said seriously, though she wouldn't be able to hold her laughter for much longer.

They had all laughed with that moment, as they comprehended it contained the truth.

But Merlin just _knew_ it wasn't normal he dreamt about him and Morgana being in love. It was impossible, they _hated_ each other.

The fact he had Magical powers himself, made him recognise Magic as no other, and given that Morgana was Magical too, there wasn't any other explanation.

But why? Why did he have those dreams? Why did _she_ make him dreaming that stuff?

Merlin knew very well Morgana was intelligent and cunning. Three years ago, she had made everyone in Camelot believe she regretted her rebellious actions and -only towards him, of course- the fact she had been trying to destroy the whole realm. The talking Merlin had with her, still wandered trough his mind.

"Merlin, I want to speak to you." Her voice sounded severe. "I know what you did, you tried to poison me."

"I – I didn't want to."

"It's all right, Merlin. I understand. You were only trying to protect your friends, I would've done the same."

"Really?"

"I was so naïve, Merlin. I don't think I really understood what I was doing. But believe me, I've seen the evils in this world. I've seen first hand what it is that Uther fights against." She cried and Merlin felt extremely awkward and guilty after her words. "You don't know how much I regret everything that I've done. I just... hope that you could forgive me."

"I am so sorry for everything you've been trough", Merlin spoke sincere. Morgana smiled faintly. "It's good to have you back."

He had believed that her words were genuine, as for her tears and her smile after he'd forgiven her everything.

However, he soon realised that it had been nothing more than a remarkable example of her acting. She had become a vicious and heartless infiltrator, an embittered marionette from Morgause. At first, he didn't want to believe it, because the illusion had been so much more beautiful than the truth. But eventually, he couldn't deny it any more.

Morgana was capable of everything. If she would've found a way to penetrate in his dreams, she would do that, because she would know it could drive him mad.

Merlin stood up. He didn't understand why she did it, and he knew only two creatures in the whole world who probably did. The first one was a Dragon, whom he rather avoided, and the other one was old and weakened and was reading an ancient book in his quarters by the fireplace.

"Gaius," Merlin spoke as he saw his mentor, "can I ask you something?" Gaius looked up. His curved stature and his friendly, blue eyes curiously looked back at Merlin.

"What's wrong, my boy?" Gaius asked. Merlin didn't answer immediately. He found it difficult to explain what he had been dreaming, and now thought it was stupid he couldn't wait for ten more minutes to decide the right words instead of walking in the headquarters of the court physician wildly, with only a confused mind.

He drew a chair up to the fire, at the opposite side of Gaius', not for sitting comfortable, but to gain some time to make up his words.

"I had a dream," Merlin started, while he stroke trough his black hair, as if it would put his confused thoughts back together, "a strange dream." He had hoped Gaius would've answered something, anything, but he didn't, so Merlin was forced to continue. "A very strange dream..." He swallowed, knowing that, what he was about to tell, would sound very ridiculous. "I saw myself with Morgana. We were standing at a lake, and we held each others hands and even kissed each other. I felt, well, happy to be with her." Merlin looked at Gaius' expression, but it hadn't changed after his words, so he decided he could better tell him about his first dream as well. "And some days back, I dreamt we were living at the seaside and had a child together." Gaius his unchanged facial appearance made Merlin concerned. The body of the old court physician was already very weak, and now it occurred that his common sense had slowed too. "Did she enchant me, Gaius? Does _she_ make me dream those things?"

Finally, Gaius face changed from intrigued to worried.

"I doubt that, Merlin," he spoke, after a short hesitation, "to manipulate other peoples dreams, asks for very dark Magic. She..."

"She is capable to do so!" Merlin interrupted. He reminded that Gaius had always toned down, even minimized, Morgana's Magical abilities, but Merlin knew better. She had a better headpiece than Gaius could've ever expected.

"She might want to, but even if we take the view that she is still alive and she gets schooling from a very skilful sorcerer or sorceress, she wouldn't be able to learn something like that in only two years. Even you wouldn't be able to do so, and I thinks that says something", Gaius spoke calmly. Merlin had wanted to barge in again while Gaius talked because he didn't agree with it at first, but Gaius' last sentence brought Merlin back on earth. He knew Morgana's Magical skills weren't inferior to his own, but he also assumed she wasn't better than him.

"So, you think she has nothing to do with those dreams?" Merlin asked. Gaius nodded. "Then why do I have them?"

"Dreams are only a processing of our experiences. It are just dreams, Merlin", Gaius said with a reassuring voice.

"No," Merlin shook his head, "no. These aren't just dreams, Gaius. They are _Magical_." Merlin wished the old man would believe him, so he wouldn't have the feeling he was about to lose his mind.

Gaius sighed and seemed to search for the right words. Eventually he said: "You are special, Merlin, but Morgana is too. I once told you that you are a question that has never been asked before," (Merlin was surprised the demented court physician still remembered that), "I believe she is just like you. You and Arthur are destined to do great things, but Morgana as well. I don't know what is going to happen, but I don't dare to assume that her part in the story already ended when she was only twenty-one."

"You believe she was right?" Merlin asked, uncomfortably. He didn't like it when their conversations had 'Morgana' as subject. "That it has just begun?"

"Yes", Gaius answered. He looked emphatic at the distressed boy. He knew like no-one else how heavy the burden of destiny weighed on Merlins shoulders. "You will see each other again, I'm sure about that."

"But were do those dreams come from?" Merlin still asked, because that was the reason why he needed Gaius for his counsel in the first place.

"I do not know", Gaius spoke honestly.

"Are they... is it," Merlin hesitated, knowing it was an idiotic idea and wishing he wouldn't sound too hopeful, "_predictive_?"

"If you would've been a Seer, than we would've discovered it in the meantime", Gaius smiled. Merlin shove over his chair unpleasantly. He realized he had made a stupid remark, and tried to convince the soft voice in his head he _didn't_ desire his dreams were indeed mantic. "But as you already found out by your experiences in the Crystal Cave, there is only one past, but there are many futures."

"Do you mean it _could_ be?" Merlin blurted out, before he became aware of the fact he should have kept that thought for himself. His ears turned red and he quickly looked trough the window, though he could still see Gaius' concerned look.

"You can't hate her, isn't it?" Gaius asked after some cumbersome moments. Merlin sighed and tried to suppress the flashbacks -it didn't matter if they were good or bad- of Morgana, but he didn't manage to do so.

"I just feel sorry for her," Merlin gasped after a while, "she has become so embittered, so full of hate. But the Morgana I used to know, wasn't like that. She was cheerful and lively, and she had a good heart. But since she discovered she has Magic, she has changed."

"From a child, Morgana has always been dealing with absolutes. She could be a very good friend to one person, but to the other, she was a ruthless enemy. I'm afraid it's a part of her personality to see things black-and-white", Gaius told. His voice sounded surprisingly sad.

"What would've happened if I _would've_ told her I have Magic?" Merlin asked than. That question had already been burning to tell for a while, but still, he hadn't been prepared he would, and he felt a sudden shock flowing trough his stomach when the words escaped his mouth.

"It is her destiny to turn against Camelot, it wouldn't have changed anything", Gaius said quickly, as if he wanted to set that thought out of Merlin's mind as fast as he could.

"And what if I've made destiny because of my decisions?" Merlin continued. He already had ignored that specific feeling of guilt for such a long time, but now it reared his head again, he _had_ to know.

"Even if that's the case, there is nothing you can do about it any more", Gaius said slowly. He emphasized every word, so they would certainly get trough.

Merlin held his tongue. He knew deep inside Gaius was right and he had to let go of it, but he couldn't.

"I wish I had told her," he finally whispered sadly, after he had glanced at his fingers for some time, "I wanted to tell her that I'm just like her. I wanted to tell her she didn't had to be afraid of her powers and that I – that I wanted to teach her how she could use them. But I couldn't." Merlin sighed. Gaius putted a paternal hand on Merlins shoulder and looked at him friendly. "I couldn't because... because I..." There it stopped. He had started his sentence, but he wasn't able to finish it. He didn't know the answer.

"_It doesn't have to be like this, Morgana. We can find another way."_

"_There is no other way."_

They wandered trough his head, those words. There had been another way, but he had ignored it for reasons he didn't know for himself.

"I've been a fool, Gaius", Merlin said softly. He felt how his fingernails pressed in the palm of his hands until they almost started bleeding, but blood was still better than the tears he felt in his eyes.

"That's not true, merlin," Gaius soothed, but he sounded very serious, "you're just saying that because you're tired and you just had that dream. You know as well as I do it's not true. It had been Morgana's choice, not yours."

"I could've done more", Merlin protested unwittingly.

"You've done what you thought was right", Gaius tried to encourage Merlin.

"No, I didn't", Merlin said, annoyed that it was so difficult for Gaius to understand. "But I won't make the same mistake again. From now on, I'll never listen to others when they tell me what I have to do. From now on, I will only do what _I_ think is right." Merlin nodded fiercely. With every nod he constructed that promise in his mind, until he meant every letter.

**~Please review**


	6. Chapter 6

Morgause had been more quiet than usual the past few days, Morgana had -not without the necessary concern- noticed. It appeared as if her older sister was considering things all the time, stuff Morgana shouldn't be aware of, something which made her -honestly- annoyed, as she never kept any secrets for Morgause and had hoped that would've been vice versa.

It was raining all day. Dylan, the god of the sea, was having a battle with Lugh, the god of the sky, against the earth. Or at least it looked like that, as the rain poured down on the soft ground and the waves of the sea fought against the rocks in the water.

Nonetheless, Morgana went outside. She had promised Morgause she would take care of dinner that evening, hoping that her sister would become a bit more talkative if Morgana could get her in in a good mood with a nice-cooked meal.

She was already soaked wet by the rain, so she didn't matter she would become even soggier when she walked in the sea. A long time ago, Arthur had taught her how to swim, though that ability wouldn't come in very useful now, as the sea was that wild it would drown her, no matter if she could swim or not, if she didn't use Magic to keep the water around her as low as possible. Wherever she moved, the briny ocean reached only to her knees.

Morgana loved fishing, because it trained her reflexes really well. When she saw a fish, she had to be fast if she wanted to paralyse and catch it. In the past, she and Arthur sometimes fished in the lake, close to Camelot. Back then, it wasn't her line, because it was one of the few things Arthur could do better than her, and as a teenager she took that in bad part.

Her hate towards Arthur wasn't in proportion with her hate towards Camelot. She'd never really anathematized him, though she used to imagine it sometimes when they had a quarrel about a stupid, childish dispute, and he had put toads in her bed in revenge she'd outsmarted him verbally. He was her half-brother after all. If she liked it or not, she would always have a bond with him.

Morgana had to kill hem, Morgause had said, but that hadn't been easy. He'd never caused her any harm (except for the toad-incident).

However, she'd done what Morgause had asked her, because she'd based herself on the assumption Morgause knew everything better. But now Morgana would rather consider twice. Not because she believed Morgause didn't have good intentions, but due to the reason she didn't see Morgause as her superior any more. Her sister was her equal, and Morgana had the right to contradict.

After all, she was somehow relieved her attempts to kill Arthur had failed.

"_Léfung_", Morgana murmured, when she saw a fish -she presumed it was a cod, but wasn't sure- was passing by, away from the danger of the storm and without knowing he was swimming right in the arms of his murderess.

The fish paralysed immediately, and in less than no time -before the storm would float him even further away- she grabbed him out of the water.

It was certainly one of the most useful spells Morgause had taught her. Not only fish were in for it, but also bigger animals and -if she wanted- even men.

"I'm sorry, pall," Morgana spoke to the paralysed fish, that would serve as a nice dinner that evening, "maybe it's better like this? The storm would've killed you anyway." She doubted so, fish were -of course- excellent swimmers, but she had learnt to respect everything in nature, so she owned her apologies to that fish, although it wouldn't save him.

Morgana stepped out of the sea and spat out the salty water. The coldness made her tremble, and she looked like a mermaid who was washed ashore (she was surprised she still hadn't developed flippers), and hurried back to the wooden cottage.

"Morgana! You haven't really been outside now, just to go fishing?" Morgause asked rhetorically when Morgana got back inside, soaking wet.

"No", Morgana lied automatically.

"The fish you're holding just fell out of the sky?" the oldest sister questioned sarcastically, with a spark of chagrin in her voice.

"Yes", Morgana smirked.

Morgause dubiously shook her head, murmured "_hléownes"_, and Morgana felt in an instant how the humidity got out of her clothes and how her body rewarmed again.

"Thanks", she smiled. But Morgause had already turned away and had stepped back to the fireplace, which she lit by using a simple spell.

Morgana shrugged ("If she wants to be mad at me, fine. I don't care", she tried to fool herself) and took a pot out of the wooden cupboard, which she ported to the fireplace. She hummed: "_Forbearnán_", felt how Magic flew from her body to the wood (which she, luckily, had gathered yesterday , when it wasn't raining that hard), and in a second, a fire appeared.

Morgana baked the cod as well as she could -she'd already noticed cooking was not one of her best skills- and when the evening fell, she and Morgause sat down to dinner, eating from the fish (that didn't turn out that badly, in Morgana's opinion) and a piece of bread. Outside, the storm blazed and for a brief moment, Morgana's mind went back to the days she was eleven years old and the heavy thunderstorms had lead her to Arthurs room. The days she was afraid of the storm were, however, over.

"I've been thinking, Morgana," Morgause spoke suddenly, while biting a piece of the bread, "in fact, I've been thinking for a long time, but I want you to go with me to Cornwall tomorrow."

Morgana looked up, amazed.

Cornwall was most likely the most Magical place Morgana had ever visited. It was there the High Priestesses were, it was there the Triskelion -the Celtic sign of Trinity- had been marked on her shoulder during her inauguration as an apprentice and it was there Morgause -being one of the most important sorceresses of the craft- went every three months for a meeting with the others.

"Really?" Morgana stuttered eventually.

"You are ready", Morgause judged. She looked Morgana straight into her eyes, and Morgana realised that should have been the matter Morgause had worried about the past few days.

"Do you really think so?" Morgana asked, uncertain. She wanted to believe it, only the idea to become a High Priestess made her very excited, but it was still so early. She'd only served apprenticeship with Morgause for two years, and her sister had once told her she'd been trained thirteen years before they'd considered her ready to do the Test.

"I know two years sound incredibly short, but you don't need more education. I've taught you the basic things, and that's enough to pass the Test," Morgause spoke, "and, as you know, we're running out of time."

Morgana most certainly knew that, she'd heard it many times.

She was now twenty-three, which meant she only had two more years to prepare herself for the infamous Test. Most students were already educated from child (like Morgause), which made it easy for them not to cross the limit of twenty-five. According to Morgause, that limit had been grounded so they wouldn't be wasting to many valuable time on few-gifted sorceresses. Exceptions, like Morgana, didn't count.

"I don't know, Morgause", Morgana hesitated.

"Believe me, Morgana, you're the most talented sorceress I've ever met," Morgause reassured, "and besides, the Test isn't meant to fail. It's meant to bring out the very best."

"What does the Test contain?" Morgana asked worried.

"You have to look into the holy water of Gástlíce", Morgause told. She poured out some extra water and drank. "I had to steal the Athame of Idril Calafalas." Morgana looked at Morgause, questioning. She knew an Athame, that was a ceremonial knife, but she'd never heard of Idril Calafalas.

"Who is she?" she asked, when she saw Morgause didn't plan to answer her asking look.

"She's the leader of a group of Wood-elves from Skye." Skye was situated in the north, Morgana knew. It was known as one of the most Magical places in the world, even more than Cornwall.

"Why did you have to steal the Athame?" Morgana asked, as she didn't understand what use it had. The High Priestesses had heaps of Magical knives, and it was sad that Idril Calafalas now didn't.

"To see if I would've been able to escape from the Wood-elves," Morgause told, "ominous folks... they look nice, but once they use their Magic, you better get out of there", Morgause said casually, like she was used to a whole bunch of angry Wood-elves, descending on her. "Eventually, I've returned them the knife."

"Why?"

"Because it had no use to me", Morgause answered shortly.

They fell silent. Lightning struck close to the cottage, and while Morgause wondered how they would be able to go to Cornwall the next day if the weather would still be a such a disaster, Morgana was concerned about other things.

"I don't see myself escaping from the Wood-elves in Skye", she murmured softly. However she'd already made a lot of progress and her Magic became better every day, she knew Morgause was wrong. She wasn't ready, she couldn't do it.

"That was also my first thought when I got to do the Test, but once I arrived in Skye, I just knew instinctively what I had to do", Morgause tried to reassure her sister. "You just have to believe in yourself, Morgana. I believe in you." She smiled and Morgana couldn't help but smiling too.

Nonetheless, that night, she wasn't able to fall asleep, and not only because of the storm that was still blazing.

After she'd lied away for a very long time, she decided it was wiser if she would simply assume Morgause was right. She knew her sister gave her a choice, but at the same time, she didn't had one. She would go to Cornwall tomorrow, and she better started believing she was capable of escaping to Wood-elves or defeating Dragons, or whatever she was up against.


	7. Chapter 7

Morgana already rose before daylight, and the reassuring lack of rain against her window made her a bit more light-hearted. The sun was already shining in the east. However, when she glared trough her window, she saw the world still looked like a big swamp. Nonetheless, she preferred the wet, spongy ground instead of the endless rain.

She stood up and put on the same white shirt, black trousers and brown, leather boots as always, but this time, she also took her black cloak.

Though she'd never met a real vampire, she still found herself looking like one, with her pale skin and piercing, green eyes, contrasting her dark clothes and her raven-black hair.

"Already dressed, I see", Morgause smiled when Morgana entered the small living room. Morgana nodded and took an apple that was placed on the table. It wasn't much, but she expected she could impossibly eat much. The fact they would later on travel to Cornwall to hear what her Test will be, still gave her more nerves than she cared to, though she'd determined herself she wouldn't let them deal with her.

"Morgana, go to Tintagel and hire two horses. Make sure you're back in the afternoon. If we make haste, we'll be in Cornwall when the evening falls", Morgause said, and she gave Morgana some money. Morgana obeyed and went outside.

She breathed in the fresh morning-air and walked on the rocky and wet path that would lead her to Tintagel, a kingdom were Magic was in the air. It was more of a home to Morgana than Camelot had ever been.

In the meantime, the faint sun shone higher and higher.

After fifteen minutes of climbing on the nasty road, Morgana reached the highest level. Now she'd only had to walk one mile to the city, where she and her sister were known as High Priestesses, and no-one cared about it. A large number of Druids often passed by, to buy herbs or to rest in the inn, and it was rare to find someone in Tintagel who _didn't _practice Magic.

Sometimes, Morgana wished she'd heard from Tintagel earlier. Than she could've fled away from Camelot, without having to lose all her friends. But she couldn't change the past any more, and the present she was in now, was one she could live with.

In the city, Morgana rented two horses, like Morgause had ordered her to. It were two strong mares that could make the trip to Cornwall easily. Morgana chose the black horse to ride back home, and leaded the other by taking its bridles. It was an advantage the horses were used to ride across rocks, so Morgana had no problem to be back home in time.

In the afternoon, after the horses had drank something and Morgause had packed food for the road, they departed. Morgana felt a certain flush of excitement running through her body when she thought about what was at hand. She wondered if the High Priestesses would be surprised to see her back after such a short time. Two years ago, after Morgana had rescued Morgause in a nick of time from death, they had entrusted Morgause with Morgana's education and had marked her with the Triskelion, the sign of Trinity, of the bond between heaven, earth and the underworld (it was the same sign that was tattooed on Mordred's chest, Morgana remembered, though many years had past since the last time she'd seen the boy). The following days, Morgana had past in pain in Cornwall, but when the scalds on her shoulder were healed, she moved with her sister to Tintagel.

She'd always associated Cornwall with Magic, even more than Tintagel, and she had reason to believe so. Already from a big distance, Morgana could feel the Magic that was flowing there, as the same kind of sweltering energy that could also be felt on a warm summer day, when a storm was coming.

When the sun set, Morgana and Morgause found themselves surrounded with Magical energy when they'd reached a big and overwhelming forest, and the sisters knew they'd came at their destination.

"Nervous?" Morgause asked, when she saw Morgana's look.

"I'm not sure", Morgana answered truthfully.

She felt the mark on her shoulder burn and wondered if Morgause felt the same (she also had a mark on her shoulder, like everyone they would find in the woods they were about to enter). Morgause had told her the mark was meant as protection, that it would defend the bearer of it against basic spells, but when it hurt that much, Morgana speculated if it was really meant to protect her and not to torture her. However, the Triskelion must've felt it'd reached his source, because it hadn't burned that much since Morgana was marked with it, two years back.

The horses started to behave anxiously. Morgana's black mare snorted deeply trough her nose, and refused to go into the forest. As Morgana eyes searched for Morgause's reaction, she saw her sister had already been prepared for that, and had descended from her brown horse.

"They can feel the Magic, just like us. But they are afraid of it because they don't know what it is", Morgause explained. Morgana had to think about the people in Camelot, and felt angriness grow inside of her for some seconds, but eventually, she repressed those thoughts. Those poor animals couldn't help it their instinct told them something was wrong. People, however, were able to use their common sense.

They bound the horses to a tree and stepped into the woods. The dark forest reminded Morgana of the time she wandered trough the Forest of Ascetir, and was nearly stung to dead by a giant Serket. She couldn't deny she felt a bit scared and, after all, she was happy Morgause, who -as usual- was calmness itself, was walking beside her.

The forest became darker and each step Morgana took, seemed harder to bear. The trees came to be bigger and larger than they were before, until their roots finally appeared to be giant pythons, which Morgana knew from the books that were stored in the library of Camelot and where she used to pry into when it was raining or she was simply bored.

After half an hour, which seemed like a lifetime, Morgana literally saw the light in the darkness, being the thankful signal they'd reached their destination. The light of the fire grew stronger as they made head-way, and sooner than Morgana had expected, they'd reached a big, open spot in the forest, which was the place were the meeting would be held. Morgana was aware of the fact she wasn't allowed to attend, but she had the feeling she wouldn't get bored in this Magical forest.

They entered the circle, formed by about twenty women, all dressed in long coats and emanating Magic. However they all had different ages, Morgana noticed that Morgause was definitely the youngest to be present at the meeting.

"Welcome, Morgause", the oldest High Priestess spoke. The old woman had long, ivory hair and a very severe, though wise, face. Her name was Lyra, Morgana remembered from her last visit. How could she forget? Lyra wielded power that awed everyone and wouldn't be forgotten soon.

Morgause bowed for the leader of the High Priestesses, and Morgana decided she'd better follow the example of her sister. Morgause would usually be the last person ever to bow for someone, but if she showed that form of respect, it meant that Lyra didn't tolerate if someone forgot it.

"I notice you are not alone", Lyra spoke, with a scornful tone in her voice. Morgana tried not to look into the ghostwhite eyes, which fitted perfectly with her hair, of the old sorceress, but when she turned away, she only saw the piercing, curious eyes of the other High Priestesses -apparently, they indeed hadn't expected to see her- and that was possibly even worse, so she glared to her right side and focussed her glance on the tranquil face of her sister.

"Morgana is ready", Morgause said steady.

"Is she?" Lyra drawled. Morgause didn't answer, but stared at Lyra defiantly. Morgana found it incredible her sister could act so indifferent towards that woman, who -according to Morgana- only consisted of Magic. Personally, Lyra gave her shivers. "She only served apprenticeship for two years", Lyra remarked, still gazing into Morgause's eyes. However, Morgause didn't look away.

"Morgana is ready", she repeated self-assured.

"If she fails, you fail with her", Lyra pointed out. Morgana didn't fully understand that phrase, and she also didn't want to. The thought that it had been a very bad idea to believe Morgause's judgement, caught her and there was nothing she'd rather do for the moment than running away from that cursed forest and spending the rest of her life peacefully in Tintagel. But she didn't have the chance, as Lyra now focussed her glare on her, with her ivory eyes, vibrating with Magic. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Uhm," Morgana realized she shouldn't doubt, "yes."

"Then why were you hesitating, Morgana Pendragon?" Lyra sensed quite rightly. Unwanted, the old woman had said something that instigated Morgana's frenzies, and with that also her rashness. Although she was unfortunate enough to be called a Pendragon, she didn't feel like _one of them_. Even more, she took it in bad part if she was associated with Camelot and the Pendragons.

"I am ready", she spoke, and this time with a lot more confidence and stubbornness.

Completely unannounced, the woman putted her bony hand on Morgana's black, curling hair. Instinctively, Morgana, who didn't know what has come over the woman, wanted to pull her head back, but a faint voice in her head told her she'd better not thwart Lyra.

"You've got a lot of Magic," Lyra whispered after a while, but still her voice sounded powerful and it still made Morgana tremble, "powerful Magic." She pulled her hand back. "But you are young and reckless. There is so much anger, and hate, living inside of you. Why?"

That was probably the last question Morgana had expected to hear. Uneasy, she shove her feet over the sown area. She was looking for Morgause's glare, but her sister looked straight ahead, clearly not wanting to make eye-contact with her right now.

"I'd expected the High Priestesses were aware of my past", Morgana said eventually, not sure if she'd chosen the right words, but also not longing to tell the whole story again.

"We know your past, Morgana Pendragon," ("Is she saying _that _name to make me angry?" Morgana thought bitterly), "for someone who is so young, you've already done great things, and the end isn't within sight. You are writing history, and you aren't even aware of it. You are ignorant as a little child." Lyra said it all at the same drawling tone, and Morgana felt how her heart sank into her boots and, at the same time, how rage took possession of her thoughts. "You won't take the Test."

Lyra turned around, to mark their conversation had ended.

Morgana had already opened her mouth to protest, but one warning glare of Morgause made her reconsider quickly.

"Morgana, hang around in the forest, stay close and wait until I return", Morgause ordered, whispering, but with surprisingly much hardness in her voice. Although a part of Morgana wanted to contradict her sister, she decided it was wiser to obey, so she roved away hastily from the circle of High Priestesses and started to wander through the forest.

Her hate was very justified, she found. In Camelot, she had known nothing else but fear, pain and sadness. In fact, how dared they speak about her like that? If such a great destiny was waiting, they could better start listening to her instead of calling her a child. Had she been looking forward to this visit, just to hear she wasn't ready? And why didn't Morgause step into the breach for her?

Probably, they were all talking about her right now; Morgana wagered that so-called 'meeting' was nothing more than a pleasant tea-party, filled with a bunch of gossips. Why wouldn't she take a look? Then she could see with her own eyes what it was what she missed.

Morgana walked back to the open spot, where a fire was still burning and the twenty High Priestesses were talking to each other.

Morgana sneaked carefully closer and hid behind the closest, giant oak. Of course, she couldn't hear what the women were saying to each other.

"_Fágettan mid wordum_", she murmured. Her green eyes flashed amber, and suddenly she could hear the whole conversation as if she was standing next to them. She was aware of the fact it was a great risk to use Magic here, but the odds they would notice were, however, very small. There was so much Magic flowing through the air that a simple spell could impossibly disturb the balance of the forest.

Did the High Priestesses thought _that_ was reckless?

After a while, she had to admit the discussions they talked about were indeed rather serious, and because of that, even boring. Without really paying attention, she caught things like 'war with the Giants in the north' and 'the bond of Witchfinders has gathered in Scarborough to wage war against the Magicians'. It were things Morgause had told her sister many times, until Morgana had grown tired of hearing them.

It went on like that for a couple of hours. Morgana's eyelids became heavier and before she realized it, she was lying against the oak, half asleep, until she heard the familiar voice of Morgause who -surprisingly enough- hadn't said a word until now.

"I would like to begin to speak." Her voice sounded fierce and determined, and Morgana was awake in an instant. Immediately, she got the hopeful feeling Morgause would try to convince Lyra so Morgana could take the Test. "It's about Morgana."

Morgana turned around, so she could catch a glimpse of the sorceresses in the circle. She saw Morgause standing up and looking straight to Lyra.

"She can't take the Test yet, Morgause," Lyra spoke against he youngest of the High Priestesses in the circle, "she is talented, but way to rash. She will fail."

"I know", Morgause said. Morgana looked up, shocked. Had Morgause just decided Lyra was right? She knew her sister, and it was nothing like her to give up if she believed in something. "That is the intention."

"What do you mean?" Lyra asked, and somehow, she sounded a bit curious, for the first time.

"You had asked me to keep an eye on the boy, Merlin?" Morgause asked, though she didn't expect an answer. "I did, and I'm afraid the Bond has come into operation."

"Are you certain of that?" another voice, which came from one of the High Priestesses next to Lyra, asked.

"Yes", Morgause answered.

"How?"

"He's dreaming about him and Morgana being in love", Morgause explained. Morgana had the feeling as if her heart had just skipped a couple of beats. She pricked up her ears, even more observing than before, afraid she would miss a word if she wouldn't focus for a second.

"How did you do it? Have you been looking in the boy's dreams?" Lyra asked inquiring, as if the fact Merlin and Morgana being in love was just as normal as a rainy day in November.

"No, that was too risky. Some days back, I dressed up as a peasant and went to Camelot, where I searched in the court physician's thoughts. The old fool didn't even recognize me." The contempt of her voice shocked Morgana, but not half as bad as the words her sister spoke. She remembered Morgause had been away for a while, for a task she had to complete for the High Priestesses, but she hadn't asked for more information, as it wasn't something unusual.

"Well done, Morgause," Lyra praised, clearly impressed, "you've always been one of our brightest and most talented sorceresses." Morgause smiled, but not in the way Morgana used to know. Although she stood some yards away from them, Morgana could still perceive the coldness in her sister's brown eyes.

"It is earlier than expected the Bond has come into operation", the High Priestess next to Lyra spoke again, returning the subject they'd started.

"That's why I want to send Morgana out now," Morgause said coldly, "she isn't standing in our way when she's dead."

"She would've come in handy", another woman spoke, with a small hint of protest sounding in her tone.

"Not if the Bond will come into operation and she will cooperate with the boy," Morgause invalidated automatically, "we cannot take the risk. There are many ways to get what we want. Morgana shouldn't necessary play a part."

"And what if she would succeed for the Test?" another voice asked.

"That would surprise me, but like I said, there are many ways to get what we want", Morgause smirked.

"So be it, Morgause," Lyra said then, with a strong voice, "I've always had faith in your judgement, and now as well. Morgana is going to take the Test."

Approving nods rose from the audience and Morgana felt how her world collapsed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Phew, finally I've been able to update again! I'm sorry it took me so long**...** ;)**

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Merlin couldn't stay in the room. Everything reminded him at Gaius. The structure in the mess, the old and dusty books, filled with wisdom, the smell of parchment. Gaius had done as much as he could so Merlin would've been prepared, but he wasn't.

The last few days were passed as a terrible nightmare, and Merlin didn't wake up; he didn't shed tears, nor did he speak words of sadness. In fact, he didn't say anything at all.

After the funeral, Arthur had put his strong hand on Merlin's shoulder and had told him he could take as many time of as he wants, and he could always count on him. That emphatic behaviour from the king had surprised Merlin, but at the same time, it had cheered him up a little bit, until he stood back in the chambers of the court physician who had been his father, grandfather, teacher and friend.

The last thing Gaius had told him, before he died, was that Merlins task didn't end because Arthur didn't need much protection at the moment. There would always be people, friend or foe, to make an assault on the king, and Merlin always had to be on his guard.

But he couldn't. Everything inside of him told him he couldn't. The memory of Gaius, lying in his bed as he was sleeping, but not waking up, yelled at him he couldn't.

Suddenly, Merlin turned eighteen again, and he was sitting on his bed, bothering about the fact Arthur had humiliated him (now, that seemed to happen daily and he wondered how he could ever have thought it was horrible, as it was a part of their friendship) and because Gaius what angry at him because he -Merlin- had practised Magic secretly, to teach Arthur a lesson.

"I'm not a monster, am I?" Merlin had asked. He'd tried to sound casual, and almost joking, but deep inside, he felt bloody serious.

Gaius had raised his eyebrow, as if he was wondering how Merlin even dared to consider something like that.

"You may never think so."

Merlin had never, ever thought of it again, until he stood in _his_ headquarters and the walls seemed to be heading towards him. He knew he couldn't stay.

He ran outside. His thoughts were whirling. Why did Gaius have to die? There were so many things he still had to teach him, Merlin couldn't do it alone.

He was tired of it. He didn't want to keep his Magic secret any more, he wanted to go to Arthurs chambers and scream to him he -Merlin- was a wizard and it was his destiny to protect the king.

He marched through the corridors, were the servants didn't look strangely at him, as he was a known face, to the chambers of the king. Without knocking, he opened the door swiftly.

Arthur, who already had been lying in his bed, sleeping, sat straight immediately, as if he was expecting to see an enemy standing in front of him.

"I-," Merlin would tell him, he was sure of it, "I..."

"C'mon, Merlin. I'd promised you could tell me everything", Arthur said, and his voice sounded friendlier than it had ever done before.

"I've got to make off for a while," Merlin spoke than, "I'm going back to Ealdor, and will return after a couple of weeks."

He didn't know why he said that instead of the confession he had been about to make, which was the true reason he stood there in the chambers of the king. He simply couldn't do it, like so many things. It was just as the night he had been in Morgana's room, and close to tell his greatest secret to her, but he hadn't been able to do so. The thought he could only share his secret with Gaius, made a little voice in his head whisper that no-one should know.

But now he had already said it. Arthur had nodded, had wished Merlin a fine journey and had let him go. Once outside, Merlin collapsed against the wall, desperate. Why was everything so hard?

"Merlin," spoke a gentle voice, unexpectedly, "Merlin, are you all right?" Gwen's warm, brown eyes looked down at him, worried. Merlin suspected she was heading to Arthurs room, but that wasn't his business, so he didn't ask her either.

"Yes, I'm fine", he lied. He stood straight en tried to smile at her, but he knew she knew it wasn't genuine. All of a sudden, the thought could tell _her_ about the fact he was a sorcerer, crossed his mind, but he banned that idea quite fast. Gwen had lost her father due Magic, and had to stand by when it consumed her best friend, until her mistress had become a merciless witch. She was probably the last person who would trust him if he told her he was a Magician, en he understood her completely.

"I am so sorry about Gaius", Gwen spoke with a sad voice. He knew she meant it. She hadn't been able to hide her tears during the funeral, and Gaius had been some sort of grandfather to her, like he had been for everyone.

"Yes", Merlin answered. He didn't know what else he could say. Gwen understood and she hugged him tightly, and that comforted Merlin more than all the nice words Arthur had said to him (not that he would've felt comfortable when Arthur would embrace him). "I'm going to Ealdor," he spoke, when she let go of him, "I need some time to think." Gwen nodded slowly, with tears in her eyes.

"Come back soon, Merlin", she begged.

"I will", Merlin promised.

In the end, he felt relieved he hadn't confessed his secret to Arthur in a hurry. His decision to go to Ealdor, or just to be away from Camelot, was one of the best he'd taken the past few days.

That night, he made his backpack. He only putted in the most necessary, like some food, a water bottle, a blanket (as he couldn't trust the weather in November) and the book of spells Gaius had given him five years back. Although he already knew it by heart, it gave him a good feeling to have something touchable that would always remind him of Gaius. Than he would never forget him, not that he intended to.

Without looking back, Merlin leaved. He walked out of the castle, with his head raised, and his backpack hanging on his straight shoulders. It felt good to have a goal again, and he was sure Ealdor would give him the peace and rest he needed so badly. There, he would find time to think about how exactly he was going to tell Arthur he had Magic, because he had made up his mind.

Arthur wasn't only a rightful king, he was also his best friend. He would find it hard at first, but he would understand in the end -at least, that was what Merlin hoped. Gaius would've wanted it like that, and so did he -Merlin- as well. Maybe than Arthur would finally come to realise Magic didn't have to be evil just because it was Magic.

That would be a dream that comes true.

It was a cold night, but at least it wasn't freezing any more. Before Merlin was aware of it, he had left the city, and was now walking on the country side. The journey to Ealdor took three days and wasn't without risks, but Merlin didn't matter. He was happy he was out of the castle.

Now his sadness wasn't overwhelming him any more, but had taken place for determination, it became much easier to let the exhaustion possess him. After a couple of hours, he felt how his eyelids became heavy.

He decided some sleep wouldn't be bad, so he sat down on the soft ground, took out his blanket and ensconced in it, after he'd murmured '_forbearnán_' and some branches, that had been lying close to him, became a cosy camp fire. Merlin smiled melancholy. The dancing flames whispered to him Magic _was_ beautiful, but only for the ones who wanted to see it.

With that thought, he fell asleep.

_He missed Gaius. He missed his wise voice and his friendly eyes. He missed the times Gaius had stared at him in disbelief, every time Merlin had done something utterly stupid, and he missed the taps he got on his shoulder after he'd saved Arthur after thousand times. He missed their conversations about Magic, which they held without being afraid they would die at the stake. _

_Merlin threw some flat stones in the river. They sank to the bottom right away. He sighed. _

"_You've been like a son to him," Morgana told him, with a soft and warm voice, "I'm sure he's proud of you, wherever he is." She putted her hand on his shoulder and he smiled faintly. _

_Her company and her soothing words couldn't bring Gaius back, but they could give Merlin the strength to go on. _

Merlin opened his eyes. He had been dreaming again, again about Morgana.

Just like all of his decisions he'd made that day, he acted fiercely. He stood straight in no time, kicked out the fire with his boots and made his backpack.

All those dreams about his arch-enemy had left him more confused than the death of his oldest friend and the obscurity about his destiny. The time of doing nothing was over, Merlin would call the only creature he knew that could provide him answers.

**~Please review~**


	9. Chapter 9

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With might and main, he concentrated on the almighty, Magical creature he was about to call. He was the only one in the whole world who was able to do that, thanks to the ability he'd inherited from his father.

The Dragonlord swallowed, closed his eyes and gathered all the Magic he had in his throat, so he got the strange sense his Adam's apple was at the point of exploding. However, he kept heaping up Magic, until it indeed came to an outburst.

"_Dragon_!" he shouted, with a Magical, reinforced voice, blaring through the woods. "_Dragon_!" It heard him, he could feel his presence. "_Dragon_!" Merlin raged once again, to underline the urgency of his cries.

Merlin wondered if the Great Dragon always stayed close to Camelot, or if he could just fly really fast, 'cause some moments later, the grand, scaled, copper-coloured Dragon, with the golden eyes, was already landing on the ground. After all those years, Merlin still didn't feel comfortable in the presence of the Great Dragon, that was listening to the name Kilgharrah.

"You have called me, young warlock", the Dragon said, with his Magical voice and eternal smirk -revealing his sharp teeth- which Merlin didn't like at all, though he'd got used to it.

"I need some answers", Merlin said, on a powerful tone. Every time he was in the company of the Dragon, he tried to appear much braver and stronger than he actually felt, although he knew he was the Dragon's superior. But still, the creature gave him shivers.

"And what are the questions that need to be answered?" the Dragon asked, with his big jaws imminently close to Merlin's face, but the young sorcerer didn't get intimidated and kept on staring into the Dragon's amber-coloured eyes.

"Before I ask them, you have to give me your word you'll answer them properly", Merlin commanded.

"Didn't I do so in the past?" the Dragon demanded, with something that had to pass for an innocent tone.

"_No_", Merlin thought. He wasn't forgotten the Dragon had ran amok some years back, which had caused the death of many poor souls in Camelot. "I just want to make sure," Merlin said however, diplomatically, "it's about an important matter, and I require to hear the truth." The harshness of his voice surprised him and made him think of king Uther. But he repressed those thoughts, because he had a very good reason to force the Dragon.

"Very well," Kilgharrah said, still with the same smirk, "I promise."

"Swear to it!" Merlin forced, as he wasn't convinced at all. He felt the Magic flowing through his body when he ordered the Dragon, and he knew that was the sign his forces as a Dragonlord were in action. Now Kilgharrah couldn't refuse any more, he couldn't withstand a Dragonlord.

"I _swear_ it", the Dragon growled, with a bad grace, but this time, Merlin was assured that Kilgharrah would be sincere.

"I dream about me and _her_", Merlin spoke. He knew he didn't have to say any names, as Kilgharrah would understand instantly whom he was referring to.

And he did, and astonishingly, he laughed.

"That doesn't surprise me," he told, after seeing Merlin's amazed look, "you are joined forever. She is the Darkness to your Light."

"I've heard that before," Merlin said, frustrated, "but that doesn't explain why I have those dreams."

"That's because you are joined", the Dragon answered simply.

"How?" Merlin asked, annoyed he still didn't have a proper reply. "in the meantime, I already started to realise she's the Darkness to my Light, and the Hatred to my Love."

"And that's the Bond between you two", the Dragon said, and if he would've had clearly visible shoulders, he would've shrugged.

Merlin shove his feet. He still wasn't happy with the response he'd got, and he didn't make a secret of it.

"Do you want to know more, young warlock?" the Dragon sneered, by seeing Merlin's look of dissatisfaction.

"If the dreams are coming from the Bond between us, then why didn't I have them before?" Merlin asked the first and most logical question that crossed his mind.

The Dragon was still, and Merlin felt how the first signs of desperation settled in his stomach. If even Kilgharrah didn't know it, then who would?

He looked into the Dragon's golden eyes, almost begging.

"Please," he prayed, "I must know, before I lose my mind."

"Destiny is something strange, Merlin. It leads us to places we'd otherwise never visit, and it encourages us to do things we'd otherwise never do. People can be that destiny", the Dragon spoke, enigmatically. The feeling Kilgharrah knew very well why he -Merlin- didn't had those dreams until now, pushed away the desperation and made place for hope.

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked stringently. "Do not dare _not_ to tell me!"

"Morgana Pendragon was vulnerable and easily influenced", the Dragon said. His statement wasn't over at all, according to Merlin, but still, Kilgharrah stopped talking.

"Go on", Merlin said. Again, his voice sounded harder and more severe than it usually did.

"If you had told her you had Magic, than she never would have become an enemy of Camelot."

Although Merlin had always feared for those words, it took ages before they finally dawned to him. They were accompanied with an overwhelming feeling of guilt, and though he'd always wanted to know the answer to that question, still he wished he'd never heard it.

But then, he remembered something.

"You told me I couldn't say anything to her, that I couldn't trust her!" He shouted those words in the same way as he had called the Dragon, full of Magic and anger he'd only felt during the rarest occasions. If it was someone's fault Morgana stood now on Morgause's side, then it was Kilgharra's.

"Uther Pendragon was a tyrant with whom I had to even the score, and the fear the girl felt for her Magic, gave me the perfect opportunity", the Dragon spoke indifferently, and the lack of guiltiness or empathy made Merlin tremble from rage.

"You knew this from the very beginning. You had foreseen this all", Merlin concluded. "You've destroyed several lives with your selfishness!" He thought of Uther and Morgana.

"And _she_ didn't?" the Dragon mocked.

Merlin held his tongue. He knew very well Morgana had done terrible things, but at the moment, her gruesome deeds seemed nothing compared to the creature that, indirectly, had forced her to do so.

"Eventually, _you_ had the choice. You could've told her, but you decided to listen to me", Kilgharrah noticed.

Merlin couldn't object. He knew the Dragon had taken a risk when he'd fooled Merlin by saying that it was Morgana's destiny to destroy Camelot, and that he'd better never tell her about his Magic. It could've turned out completely different.

"So, in fact, _I _have formed destiny", Merlin stammered. He tried to keep his anger to himself, as he'd already come this far, and he demanded to know more.

"No, young warlock. You've _changed_ destiny", the Dragon spoke, and the amused tone in his voice made it really difficult for Merlin to stay calm.

"Then what was destiny in the first place?" Merlin asked. "Is she _not_ the Darkness to my Light?"

"Oh, she is, Merlin", the Dragon spoke. In the meantime, Merlin didn't understand anything any more. How could she be Darkness, and _not_ wanting to see Camelot fall?

"I don't get it", Merlin said, heated.

"You were born to help Arthur fulfiling his destiny and to protect him, but you can't do it alone. It is Morgana's destiny to keep you balanced, to assist you," the Dragon told, "king Arthur doesn't rule on his own. There's a queen on his side: Guinevere. She is as important as the king is, because without her, he would tear apart, and he can't fulfil his destiny. Just as it is your task to protect Arthur, it is Morgana's to protect Guinevere," Kilgharrah continued, "Two were born to rule, and two were born to protect. That was written in the stars thousands of years ago, and now the time of Royalty and Magic has finally arrived. The four of you were already meant to do great things before you were even born", he finished eventually.

Merlin's thoughts worked in less than no time as he was absorbing that intense knowledge of new information.

"So, what you want to say, is that we've failed because Gwen doesn't get protected?" Merlin concluded bitter.

"Unless you would succeed in protecting them both, and staying alive yourself, which I highly doubt you would without any help of another, extremely powerful Magician, yes. Now, everything still seems easy, as there is no danger _yet_. But soon, that will all change. The battle for Camelot hasn't even begun, and you better be prepared when it does."

"Vicious liar!" Merlin yelled, without being able to keep his angriness to himself any more. "You knew this from the very beginning! I trusted you!"

"That is _your_ mistake, not mine", the Dragon said, severe.

Merlin closed his eyes for some seconds. He had to stay calm and think clear, because he needed more answers and he didn't plan to call Kilgharrah again for the coming hundred years.

"So, Morgana is the person who has to keep me balanced and to protect Gwen. If she isn't on our side, Arthur can't fulfil his destiny and we've failed", he outlined shortly, while he tried to keep his breathing as regular as possible. "But I still don't know why I have those dreams _now_."

"Because you're running out of time. Your destiny _has_ to be fulfilled, and the gods want to draw your attention to it", the Dragon said.

"_If they really wanted us to succeed, than they would've made that untruthful Dragon deaf and dumb_", Merlin thought angrily. "Does Morgana have those dreams as well?" he asked.

"I do not know."

"Where can I find her?" Merlin asked then. He was aware of the fact that his destiny _had_ to succeed, because otherwise, he would never be free to use Magic. But unfortunately, it turned out he'd needed Morgana for that.

"It is suicide to go looking for her, young warlock. She has chosen a path where you can't follow her", Kilgharrah said.

"Thanks to you," Merlin noticed, "tell me where I can find her."

"It is too dangerous, Merlin. She isn't on your side any more, and she never will again. Try to protect both Arthur and Guinevere", the Dragon recommended. But for some reason, Merlin absolutely didn't want to do that. For a part because he didn't want to take any advice of the Dragon any more, but also for a more important reason. Right now, Morgana was a mighty enemy of Camelot, but Merlin knew she would be the very woman they needed if it would come to a battle. Just like him, Morgana had a very rare form of Magic, one that was stronger than all the others. If they would work together, nobody would be able to stop them.

"Where can I find her?" Merlin asked, with a powerful voice.

"I am not going to answer to that question", the Dragon said, determined.

"I am the Dragonlord and you will obey me!" Merlin felt the Magic flowing through his body, and he knew he forced the Dragon again. "Where can I find her?"

"I am not sure, but Morgause is still alive," the Dragon spoke, annoyed (Merlin most certainly wasn't happy hearing that), "so we can assume Morgana Pendragon will be in the neighbourhood of the High Priestesses in Cornwall."

"The High Priestesses in Cornwall..." Merlin nodded slowly and realised his common sense yelled at him he shouldn't risk his life to go there. "I'm going to seek her."

"You are a fool if you do so, young warlock. Do not expect any help from me", the Dragon muttered.

"I don't look for your help any more!" Merlin shouted. He'd had enough. "You have betrayed me, and now I'll make it up. I don't need your help any more!"

"As you wish", Kilgharrah spoke, and before Merlin could say or do anything about it (not that he wanted to), the Dragon spread his enormous wings and flew off, leaving the boy in the woods.

Merlin fell down on the ground, with a head that was whirling with the gained information, and, apparently, a new goal that had to be fulfilled.

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	10. Chapter 10

**And here is chapter 10 :)**

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"I am dreaming," Morgana murmured, trembling, while she wandered idly through the dark forest of Cornwall, "what I've heard, isn't true. It can't be."

There was nothing in the whole world she wanted to believe more, but the hissing words Morgause had spoken kept haunting her thoughts. "_She isn't standing in our way when she's death._" Did Morgause really want her death? Morgause, her sister, teacher and best friend? The person Morgana cared about the most... did she really want her to die? No, that couldn't be happening. Morgana must have fallen asleep against that oak, and she must have dreamt. How did she even dare to think Morgause would do something like that?

"Morgana!" she heard a familiar voice calling. She stopped abruptly, shocked. If she would turn around, she would see the woman whom she thought she wanted to assassinate her. When she would turn around, she would see how Morgause looked at her with friendly eyes and would tell her they would go back to Tintagel, because Morgana wasn't ready to the the Test yet. Yes, it would go like that.

Morgana turned around, and saw her sister, who was smiling warmly.

"Finally," Morgause sighed, and she sounded relieved, "I've been looking for you for already half an hour."

Morgana's smile was genuine. She knew it wasn't something to worry about, that she had only been dreaming.

"I've got some good news for you, Morgana," Morgause spoke, "I've convinced Lyra. You may do the Test." Morgana knew she was supposed to cheer or at least to look happy after hearing that news, but now, she only felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her head.

"That's great", Morgana said, with a fake smile. But on the inside, she felt panic raising in her stomach.

"Come with me to the source of Gástlíce to see what your Test contains," Morgause said with light pressure, but still friendly, "then you can already leave tomorrow morning."

"I am tired, I'd like to sleep", Morgana protested, desperately. She didn't know what was happening and if it was true what she'd heard Morgause saying to the High Priestesses, but anxious to save her life, she supposed it was better if she wouldn't have to do the Test.

"The source can only be consulted at night", Morgause told. Without waiting for an answer, she left their spot in the woods, with a hesitating Morgana following her pace.

"Morgause," Morgana said, while running after her sister's quick pace, "I don't know if I'm really ready to do the Test."

"Of course you are, Morgana. Don't worry. I've seen you using Magic, and you can really pass the Test with your skills. It will be all right", Morgause reassured her, with a careful smile.

"Morgause." Morgana hastened, until she stood right in front of her sister. She took Morgause's wrist and stared straight into her brown eyes. "Please. I don't want to do this."

The smile on her sister's face faded away, and her eyes turned cold. It was the same expression Morgana had also seen when Morgause was talking to the High Priestesses, and it gave her more fear than thousands of life endangering Tests could do.

"You must, Morgana." Morgause pulled her wrist out if her sister's strong grip, and walked further, deeper into the forest.

"But Lyra said...", Morgana began.

"Lyra is an old, foolish woman. She doesn't know you, and she has no idea what you're capable of", Morgause said, and the tone in her voice sounded soft and encouraging again, but still, Morgana was surprised with the fact her sister dared to speak about the leader of their clan like that. "When she's death, and I'm in charge of the High Priestesses, the time of talking and not doing anything will be over."

"What do you mean?" Morgana asked. She decided she could better follow Morgause instead of getting lost in the dark woods. "Are you the next leader?" Morgause nodded. "Since when?" Morgana knew for certain her sister would've told her already she was going to be the leader if she already knew it for a while.

"Since an hour ago," Morgause answered, "Lyra has just appointed me."

"Congratulations," Morgana spoke, though she wasn't sure if she meant her felicitations, "why?"

"Because I've told them some interesting facts", Morgause smirked.

"Like?" Morgana asked.

"Morgana, don't be so curious!" Morgause laughed. "In the course of time, I will tell you if you like. But I suppose you won't be interested."

Silent, Morgana followed her sister to the famous source of Gástlíce, while fear marked each of her steps. She still didn't want to believe what she'd heard, but something inside of her whispered Morgause would never force her to do the Test, unless she really had a good reason.

Slowly, the awareness that the woman who was walking next to her, didn't mean as well by her as she had first assumed, sneaked into her mind. But why? Why would Morgause do such a thing? Morgana had intercepted faintly something about a Bond she and that idiot named Merlin would have, but that didn't make any sense. It wasn't like she still wanted to hang out with him? She didn't even want to see him any more, and even _thinking_ at him, made the hate inside of her grow and fed her Dark Magic, which she possessed even more than most people thought of her (but she could _feel_ its presence).

It was just ridiculous.

But before Morgana could say or do anything about it, they already arrived at the source. A new burst of panic took possession of her once she realised there was no way back. She would look into the source, and that would tell her what her Test would be.

Lyra was waiting for them. She didn't say anything, and just as a couple of hours ago, Morgana couldn't read her expression. She just gestured to the source, in token that Morgana had to look into it.

The source was a simple, small river. Nothing could show that it contained so much Magic, but Morgana _sensed _it. Suddenly, she understood why they called that place 'the source', as nowhere else it the forest was the Magic as strong as there. There was no other explanation than it was 'the source of the Magic'.

Morgana knelt in front of the source that would change her life. The vision of Morgause, who stabbed a knife in her back now she wasn't looking, crossed her thoughts for a second, but she shook her head and tried to concentrate on the rippling water.

Unprepared, she felt how Magic flew through her body with an fierce power. The Triskelion on her shoulder started glowing and it took Morgana all the strength she had to keep on looking into the water, until it slowly started to turn and whirl, as a tornado.

For the past two years, Morgana had always been taught to control her Magic, but now she couldn't. As if an unknown force dragged out all the Magic she had, it came to an outburst. Her eyes flashed gold and her head started spinning, like someone had knocked her down with a hammer. Instinctively, she tried to look away from the water, but she couldn't.

All of a sudden, she saw images inside her head, as if she was a spectator of a play. She saw trees and mountains, covered with snow. Between those trees, there was one tree which was way taller than all the others, it reached out for the sky. On the tree's trunk, Runes were cut. The image changed quickly and Morgana saw a fight between two great realms. Everything was on fire, and people yelled and cried, just like the time when Camelot was under attack by Cenred's army.

Just as fast as the images had appeared, they stopped. Morgana pulled her glare out of the river and laid down on her back, panting for breath. Her head felt like it could split every second and it was as if she had just been marked with the Triskelion again.

"What did you see?" Lyra asked then. Her drawling voice appeared to be very far away.

"A tree, surrounded by mountains. The tree was much taller than all the others I've ever seen before, and it was covered with Runes. And then... a fight", Morgana remembered, while she, with Morgause's help, rose up.

"The Tree of Stormum Ábéatne?" Morgause murmured to Lyra. Lyra nodded slowly. Morgana, however, had no idea what they were talking about.

"Morgana Pendragon-," Morgana ignored the frustration she felt when Lyra said that, because she knew it was more important to focus on what she was about to say instead of carping on the name she didn't want to hear, "you will go to the Tree of Stormum Ábéatne and make a weapon of one of its branches." Morgana nodded and couldn't help but feeling somehow relieved. It didn't sound that difficult. "You will leave tomorrow, and we expect you back within six months. If you aren't here during the night of the full moon of May, we will base ourselves on the assumption you have failed."

"Six months," Morgana faltered, "does that tree stand that far?"

"You can find the Tree of Stormum Ábéatne close to Lerwick, in the high north, on one of the Shetland Isles", Morgause told, and this time, Morgana swallowed. The Shetland Isles were located miles away from Cornwall, and to get there, she had to cross the highlands of Scotland, and, much worse, voyage on a part of the North Sea. Morgana didn't have any experience in sailing, and she had no idea how she had to do it.

"You leave tomorrow, when the sun rises", Lyra spoke, and then she left.

Morgana waited until Lyra couldn't hear what she was about to say, and then addressed to Morgause.

"Are you sure it isn't dangerous?" she asked. She tried not to sound suspicious, but she started to trust Morgause less and less by the second.

"You will face some danger, that's true, but that's only logical. It is the Test, remember," Morgause shrugged, "but there's nothing to worry about. These Tests aren't meant to kill the apprentices."

"_Hypocrite_", Morgana thought sourish, but she kept her mouth shut, wondering were that thought had come from. It must be a misunderstanding, the love for her sister yelled. But her common sense shook its head, and told her severe her eyes and ears hadn't been fooling her.

"This is the chance to prove yourself, Morgana", Morgause spoke then. Morgana awoke from her reflections and was surprised to see her sister standing so close to her, staring straight into her eyes. "This is your chance to show Lyra and all the others you aren't an _ordinary_ sorceress, but you have much more talent than them at your disposal."

"I cannot do it, Morgause", Morgana begged again.

"There is no way back. You have to do this." Morgause's voice sounded harsh and her eyes were cold as steel.

Suddenly, Morgana felt empty inside. This wasn't her sister whom she was speaking to, this was someone else, someone who wished her death. She was certain of it now.

In a flush of thoughts, which Morgana couldn't comprehend, Morgause lead her to a soft spot, close to the fire, and suggested she should take some sleep. But of course, Morgana wasn't able to do so.

Morgause had betrayed her. Why? What had Morgana ever done that caused this madness? Did Morgause really believe Morgana would ever cooperate with Merlin? Morgana's place was here, in Cornwall or Tintagel, or wherever but Camelot. Not with them, with the ones she'd ones considered as being her friends, before they dropped her when she needed them the most. Arthur, who had been some sort of lover (despite the fact they were both to stubborn to admit it, and before they discovered they were siblings), and did everything she asked of him, had fallen in love with Gwen, which had made Morgana's servant overjoyed and blind to Morgana's suffering. They thought they were the only good thing in the world, but Morgana knew better. They were as mad as they thought she was. She would never forgive them, and she would never forgive Merlin. Especially not Merlin. She hated him.

Morgana had never thought of betraying Morgause, she couldn't even imagine she would ever do that.

Unanticipatedly, she felt angry towards her sister, but that was nothing compared to the horrible feeling she was now on her own. Apparently, Morgause had decided Morgana had to die, to prevent some sort of destiny or Bond.

Morgana had been ten years old when Gorlois, the man whom she thought he was her father and she still saw as her real father, died, ans she learnt not every story has a happy ending. Now, thirteen years later, she had already heard a lot about destiny, her destiny. That destiny had decided Gorlois had to die and it had decided she was born with a rare, powerful kind of Magic.

So Morgana prayed for the strength to beat her destiny. Clearly, Morgause assumed she couldn't do it, she was weak and therefore she could better die.

Morgana wanted to be angry at her sister. She wanted to yell at her she wasn't a marionette that could be controlled by a puppeteer. But she couldn't.

Desperately, she lay down on the soft ground, with tears in her eyes. She wanted to cry, but she didn't dare to, in case she would wake Morgause and she would ask her what's wrong. Her confused thoughts haunted her. The idea she could simply run away and start a new life, somewhere far away, was tempting. But that was too easy. Of course, it was easy to run away from her problems, but then she would be a coward, like when everyone in Camelot fell asleep and she didn't say or do anything, though she knew very well it had all been her fault.

But Morgana wouldn't die. She didn't know the path the gods had chosen for her, but she wouldn't die during the Test.

Her role in this world, in this story, wasn't finished yet.

In a rare burst of rash optimism, Morgana decided she would simply do the Test, and show Morgause and all the other High Priestesses they couldn't drag about her.


	11. Chapter 11

Although the night had given her advice, Morgana still hadn't been able to sleep. A dense fog already sneaked through the trees when Morgause finally told her it was time to depart. Though Morgana hadn't been enthusiastic to leave, she was still glad to hear that news. Every second she passed in that cursed forest in Cornwall, fed her hate and awoke feelings she hadn't felt for so long, she couldn't understand them any more. Anger and hate were familiar to her, but the sadness and disappointment seemed to be from another life.

But she wouldn't put up with it. She wasn't like _Merlin_, who conscientiously kept his Magic secret. No, she stood up for what she believed was right, and she would do that now as well. Though her common sense knew Morgause wasn't worth it, Morgana's love for her sister was stronger. In fact, she hadn't been doubting when she decided she'd better do the Test to show she can stand a good deal. After that, she would make it clear to Morgause she didn't have any intentions to betray her. What else could she do? Morgause was the only person in the world she still cared about.

However, it hurt to hear the soft voice of her sister, to see her handsome face and fair, luxurious hair. Behind her friendly expression, someone who was afraid of Morgana and the, apparently, horrible destiny she dragged with her, was hidden. How on earth could Morgause, who was so powerful and wise, be so afraid of her? Didn't she realise she wouldn't have any difficulties with defeating her sister, no matter if it was in a Magical duel or in a swords-fight?

Morgause stressed to be careful for the last time, while Morgana put on her black cloak, in the hope it would protect her from the freezing wind and the coldness in the highlands, took her empty backpack and a canteen, and eventually, she put a dagger of the High Priestesses under her belt.

Morgana nodded every time automatically, but she didn't really listen. Though she'd made up her mind she would forgive Morgause, whose voice was still warm and caring, she felt as if something was broken between them forever, and no nice word or final embrace could restore it.

But Morgana had to get over it, she told herself. Morgause was her final straw, without her she might as well die. They must and will win each others trust again, no matter how hard it was.

Before she was aware of it, she and Morgause were standing on the verge of the forest, where they had left the horses. Morgana could hardly believe only one night had passed. Apparently, her confused thoughts had deceived her and told her they've been there for years.

"This is a good horse," Morgause spoke, while she patted on the mouth of the black horse, on which Morgana had ridden the day before. "I will buy this horse for you when I'm back in Tintagel. Then it can keep you company, and you will grow less tired."

"Thanks", Morgana smiled. Every smile or every grateful word, seemed insincere. But that was also the case for Morgause's words, Morgana soothed herself.

Morgana got on the black horse, happy she could now call herself the owner of the mare, and looked at Morgause for the very last time. Her brown eyes were warm, just as Morgana knew them. The silly and rather naïve thought Morgause's character changed in those Magical woods, but outside of it -when the Magical balance was stabilized again- she changed back to normal, would've been a good comfort on harmless days, but Morgana knew better. Unfortunately.

"Morgana, no matter what will happen, do not hesitate. You don't need to study Magic for years, it is instinctive. It is a part of your existence, and that's something to be proud of", were Morgause's last words before she and Morgana nodded to each other one last time and the youngest spurred her horse. The mist was still dense, and limited her sight, but she didn't need much orientation. Always to the north.

She was thinking of Morgause's words. It appeared to be that her sister believed in her, and she really hoped Morgana would arrive back home safely. But right now, she didn't dare to trust Morgause again, and she didn't want to be won over with some soothing advices. Who knew what her sister was up to? She knew Morgause like no one else (at least, she thought she did, but now she wasn't sure of it any more), and so she was aware of the fact nobody was as determined as Morgause.

A frosty wind cut her face and after some hours of galloping, she had the feeling as if someone had hit her repeatedly with a whip, until she started bleeding (to say nothing of her painful hands...). The heavy breath of her horse told her the animal needed some rest.

Morgana pulled at the bridles and the horse stood still instantly.

"Are you all right, girl?" she asked, while she opened the canteen and held it on the horse's mouth. Greedy, she emptied the canteen at a draught. Morgana smiled and was thankful for her travelling companion. "I have to give you a name, don't you think?"

Back in Camelot, she'd had a white horse. Connoisseurs agreed it had been a horse of the purest race, but to Morgana, she had only been a beautiful, sweet mare. Uther had given it to her for her thirteenth birthday, and Morgana had called her Rhonwen, which meant fair-haired in Welsh.

Rhonwen had accompanied her on every adventure and she was the only one Morgana missed from Camelot. She didn't know what had become of her faithful horse (though she was afraid the animal must've been pledged to a clever butcher after Morgana left Camelot, because Rhonwen reminded them to much of _her_), but however, Morgana hoped Rhonwen was all right and she could enjoy her last years in peace.

But Morgana didn't even consider to call the black, fierce horse Rhonwen, because she didn't want to give the animal a name that had anything to do with Camelot.

"You're as black as the night," Morgana whispered, while patting softly on the horse's muscular neck, "what do you think about Nox? Do you like that name?" The horse whinnied, as if it was approving the question. "All right then, Nox," Morgana smiled, "Though I find it more of a stallion's name, but if you can live with it, then it's fine for me."

She sat down on the wet ground, while Nox started to graze quietly. Visions of Morgause and Camelot started to haunt Morgana's thought once again, and it took her more strength than she'd ever thought to stop her tears.

"Did you know Nox is the Roman goddess of the night?" Morgana asked the black horse then. Nox didn't look up, but still, Morgana continued talking, because, ironically, at that time, it kept her mentally stable to talk to horses. "She rides across the sky in her chariot, and she places the dark hazes over the earth, and that's how it becomes night in Rome. They are inventive, aren't they, those Romans? Our gods just _are_, and we worship them. The only thing we get in return, is a destiny we don't want."

Morgana sighed and lay down on the grass, and now she found herself miles away from the Magical forest, the High Priestesses and Morgause, and the marked Triskelion didn't hurt any more, tiredness caught her suddenly. But she didn't want to sleep. Not now she had such a long journey ahead of her, and so little time to succeed.

For that reason, she sat straight in no time and interrupted Nox, who was still grazing peacefully.

"I'm sorry, girl, but we have to go", she apologised, and she got on her horse again and spurred. When she had the chance, she encouraged the horse to start galloping, because it wouldn't be easy to be back in time, especially now she didn't know what obstacles she would find on the road ahead.

Sorcerers knew very well the south contained less Magic than the north, where the landscape and its population were rougher. Morgause had told her about Wood-elves, but Morgana knew that was only a very small part of the Magic she would find.

The tales about Giants and Dwarves, Werewolves and Vampires, Dragons and Sea snakes, and all the other, Magical creatures, didn't appear out of the blue. And then there was the Tree of Stormum Ábéatne. Morgana assumed that the famous tree was a lot more Magical than the source of Gástlíce, what had already made her suffer unbearable pains for some minutes. She didn't want to think of what that tree could do to her when she was going to mutilate it by cutting of one of its branches.

After a while, Morgana felt how her eyelids became heavier and before she realised it, she was almost falling asleep on Nox's back.

"_She will fail_."

"_I know. That is the intention_."

Wrong, Morgause. Morgana wouldn't fail, she had sworn that to herself. And she wouldn't give up. Never again.

"_You had asked me to keep an eye on the boy, Merlin?_"

Why hadn't Morgause told her? She always mentioned everything what had been said during the meetings, but why didn't she when it really concerned Morgana this time? Why did she had to keep an eye on Merlin anyway?

"_He's dreaming about him and Morgana being in love_."

Come on, that was just ridiculous. There were only two men Morgana ever had feelings for. The first one was a bandit, whom she didn't even know if he was still alive, and the other one was now king of Camelot and married to Morgana's former maidservant. But even the troll Uther once wooed (it was the only memory about her guardian Morgana cherished and that could always cheer her up), was a more likely candidate to conquer her heart than Merlin was.

"_Not if the Bond will come into operation and she will cooperate with the boy._"

Why on earth would she ever want to cooperate with Merlin? They hated each other. He was fighting alongside Camelot, and she was battling to restore Magic, and that would stay like that until the end of time.

"_She isn't standing in our way when she's death._"

Neither when she's alive, she'd always suspected. But the longer she was driving and the more she needed some sleep, the more tempting it became to hinder the ones who betrayed her. They couldn't drag about the Lady Morgana. Camelot wasn't able to do so, and the most powerful sorceresses on earth would await the same faith.

She replayed the conversation Morgause and Lyra had on the meeting over and over again, to stay awake and mainly to remind herself she had to prove herself, no matter what happened and what her destiny contained.

She rode like that for hours. Replaying the conversation in her head, had nearly given her a depression, so she started to amuse herself by naming all the animals she came across in the fast-changing area.

She had already met a fox, an owl and a viper (at least, she assumed it had been a viper, though she hadn't seen it clearly because of the thick fog and Nox's fast pace), when she startled and pulled on the bristles.

She'd much rather wage war against thousands of Giants than seeing what she now faced. It was an oak, or, _the_ oak.

Arthur had taught Morgana how to climb a tree, and on a hot day in the summer, when they were both eleven (Morgana was two months Arthur's senior), he had taken her to that tree, saying it was the 'ultimate challenge for the tree-climber'. Morgana took up the challenge, as she always did, and she was already heading to the top before Arthur had even spoken the final word of his sentence. But her rushed steps had made her fall out just as quickly.

Arthur had laughed triumphantly, and to enforce his victory, he'd been mocking her all the way back, saying he was a thousand times better in climbing trees than Morgana.

Some years later, Morgana, not fully grown, but not a child any more, was walking in the forest with Gwen and Arthur, when they localised that oak again. Of course, Morgana wanted revenge for the humiliation, which she got. Arthur, however strong and stout, had been no match to Morgana any more, as his sister, yet still smaller, had become faster and more dexterous than him. From then on, that tree stood symbol for their rivalry, and even when they had both reached the significant age of eighteen years old, and were supposed to act more grown up, they would still challenge the other to do the most ridiculous, and usually embarrassing, tasks.

During the months after Merlin had poisoned her and Morgause took care of her, she'd reported a lot of stories to her sister. She told about her life in Camelot and her friends (being Arthur and Gwen, not Merlin, as she had been too confused to still see him as her friend, though at first, she had been too stubborn to admit he had become her enemy), but she had never told Morgause about that stupid tree, because it was just too childish.

It surprised her a lot when she felt that her eyes were swimming in tears. She felt wistful and almost longing when her thoughts brought her back to the days when she and Gwen were walking over the green fields of Camelot, giggling about boys and talking about one thing and another. Suddenly, Arthur challenged her again, this time for a sword fight. He always suspected he could outclass her by far, and he kept believing that until she disarmed him and was staring at him, smirking. The years past suddenly. She was nineteen, was sitting on the stairs of the castle with Arthur, Gwen and Merlin, her best friends, and was happy they had escaped a boring party that didn't seem to come to an end. They were joking, giggling and drinking way to much cider than approved.

But then she remembered the handcuffs around her wrists and the bleeding afterwards, just because she had said what everyone was thinking, just because she had been the only one who dared to say the truth out loud. That was what her 'loving' guardian had done to her, he threw her in his dirty dungeons, because she had defied him. She heard Gwen crying again, crying about her father, murdered by Uther. Morgana's father (not in the biological way, but the man she considered being her father) had been murdered by Uther as well.

And she couldn't sleep, every night. She trembled and was terrified, while tears were flowing and Gwen tried to sooth her, but was unable to do so. Horrible thoughts and unbearable feelings of fear, and even shame, were killing her inside. She couldn't tell anyone, not even Gwen. What would they do to her when they found out she, the Lady Morgana, first lady of Camelot, was a sorceress herself? What would Uther do to his beloved ward, now she turned out to be a Magician, a pagan, a traitor, a foe?

Eventually, she was lying on the floor of the throne room. Her throat was burning and her heart stopped beating. Merlin held her in his arms, with tears in his eyes. He cradled her softly, in a futile attempt to comfort her. However, Morgana already realised _he_ was the reason why she was suffering so much, before she closed her eyes, not willing to fight against death any more.

Morgana remembered again why she had left.

She spurred her horse and turned around, planning to ride as far away from Camelot as possible.


	12. Chapter 12

Merlin's head spun around. His thoughts were confused and he would have given anything for some hours of sleep, if necessary to fool himself he'd only been dreaming, but then he would forget what he had to do. He had only one objective, and that was finding Morgana. He tried not to think of her reaction and a good way to convince her that he didn't want to harm her, but after some minutes of puzzling his head off, he decided it only caused him an unhealthy dose of stress. He would cudgel his brains about it later.

He ran, like he had never been running before. It felt good to rush like that, when it seemed as if his lungs were falling out of his body. Only then, he was able to control his enormous feeling of guilt, as he had to concentrate at his trembling legs, that were eager to make him collapse.

While running, he thought of Morgana, he saw her witty grin again, and he couldn't believe he'd actually been so stupid. He should have known better than choosing for a Dragon instead of his own, dearest friend. He only hoped it wasn't too late (in fact, it had already been too late for three years, but Merlin repressed those thoughts out of necessity).

Eventually, after hours of running, he fell on the ground, exhausted. The sun was rising in the east, but Merlin didn't pay attention to that. Desirous, he reached in his backpack, took his canteen and emptied it at a draught.

He strongly wished Gaius was still with him. Then he would return to Camelot, he would tell him everything, and together, they would search for a solution. Unintentionally, he remembered Gaius, just as the Dragon, impressed Morgana should know about her Magic on Merlin. But he could impossibly be angry at his old mentor. He could only feel sad and lonely because he -Gaius- was no more. Maybe Gaius had counselled the Dragon as well? At least he had known the creature existed.

However, Merlin couldn't afford to think badly about Gaius, and even his rage towards Morgana was now restrained. She had done some terrible things, but he simply didn't feel angry at her any more. Not only because he was forced to, but also because he now realised how afraid and left alone she must have felt. Not that he found it difficult to comprehend, as he knew as no-one else how frightening Magic could be if you didn't know what it exactly was and how to control it. He had never really understood why Morgana started to cooperate with Morgause, but suddenly, even that seemed logical. There had been nobody whom Morgana could have talked to. She had had her friends, but she had to live in the illusion they would all drop her once they knew what she really was. And then Morgause, her sister, the only family she had left, came and told her she shouldn't be afraid and together, they would create a world with Magic and without Uther, so why would she not have chosen for Morgause? Now Merlin was thinking about it, he expected he -if he wasn't aware of his destiny and he had no-one he could trust, just like her- would have done exactly the same.

He was kneeling again in the throne room, exhausted and overwhelmed by sadness. He held Morgana in his arms. He wanted to sooth her, tell her he didn't want to do it, and even that everything would be all right. But not a single word had escaped his lips. She wanted to hurt him, she wanted to hit him, she wanted to get up and curse him. But instead, she found herself in his arms, gasping for breath and not letting go of his hands, as if they were the only things that could still save her; Merlin had never felt as bad as then. Poisoning Morgana was, without a doubt, the hardest thing he'd ever done.

The fact he had that flashback again, was the sign he had to get up and to go on, to the south.

In the past, Gaius often told him about Cornwall, so Merlin knew it was located in the south, and it was surrounded by Magic. King Uther had always been afraid of the city, so it wasn't appropriate to talk about it in Camelot. It was no wonder the High Priestesses were situated there.

Merlin didn't have the energy to run any more, so he walked on, grateful for the bit of sunlight, beaming on his sweaty face, and wondered if Morgana had become a High Priestess as well. There was a great chance, Merlin feared. But still, he couldn't help finding the idea of Morgana being a High Priestess a bit weird. Although she had always been adventurous, even a daredevil, and she'd always loved the rural life, she was also proud and used to comfort. Merlin found it hard to imagine Morgana living in a cave in the forest, without complaining that her hair became a mess, her clothes were dirty and she had woken up with aching muscles.

As he, tomorrow, he expected. Nonetheless, he marched on, keeping up a steady pace.

When a faint sun reached her highest point and shone on the green fields, Merlin stopped for a brief moment and ate a piece of his bread, and drank from his canteen, which he had refilled with a simple spell.

If it was because of the feeling of hunger, that had now disappeared, or because the sun gave him some warmth on this cold autumn day, he didn't know, but his thoughts had become more light-hearted and almost enthusiastic. After all, a great destiny awaited him and his friends (or enemies). They would go into history as the ones who created a kingdom named Albion, a utopia, a future, a reality, that was about to come true. He had almost forgotten about it. But still, he remained a creature of Light. Morgana was a creature of Darkness, but she had a good heart. Merlin had to admit, destiny was ironical. But he was certain. With a smile on his face, he could only conclude Morgana had a good heart. Ashamed of himself, he wondered why he'd ever thought otherwise. Deep inside, he had always known she had a good heart.

He rose up and continued his journey to the south. He began to wonder what the High Priestesses would be like. He couldn't imagine they would treat him nicely, so he only pondered on their way of living. Would he find them in a forest, even if the weather was this tricky? How would they dress up? What would they do? Did they celebrate Samhain? En Joel? And Beltain? Though those feasts hadn't been held in Camelot for a very long time (Uther had forbidden them, because they were too Magical, and Arthur didn't want to re-establish them, because most of the people in Camelot didn't even remember what they were about), Merlin still remembered how people in Ealdor, traditionally, always married on Beltain, and always celebrated Midsummer. You could call it popular belief, but Merlin was sure the gods, who had also burdened him with such a great destiny, found it important to be honoured by the people.

Gaius had once told him how he, himself, had taken Morgause, who had only been a small child back then, to the High Priestesses. Merlin had never asked for more details, and now he regretted he hadn't. Not because he cared that much about Morgause's past, though he supposed it would most likely provide him a clearer view in the mind of the most powerful and cunning sorceress he'd ever met – Nimueh included (he was also afraid he would consider Morgause as being too humane, and feel sorry for her, and that just didn't seem right. He could believe Morgana had a good heart, but only because he knew she wasn't like her half-sister). No, Merlin was curious about the way the High Priestesses lived, because he wanted to know how others of his kind filled their days. He had once met the Druids, though it had only been for a very brief moment, but he found it very interesting to know how they used their Magic. The High Priestesses, however, were known to be much more drastic in their way of thinking and acting. It wasn't hard to imagine Morgause, and also Morgana, who -as Gaius had said before- dealt in absolutes, in their world.

Before Merlin realised, the sun was already drowning in the sea, and he walked in twilight. Besides that, he felt how the energy around him had changed. The Magic calmed him, in a strange way, but also made him shiver. He experienced the bizarre, though not unfamiliar, feeling of Magic, that was aching in his veins, as if he had walked hours in the burning sun on a hot summer's day. He realised his goal wasn't far away any more. All of a sudden, he wished he had been considering how he would tell Morgana about their common destiny instead of wondering how High Priestesses lived. But it was no use crying over spilt milk, so Merlin walked on, heading for the houses and activity in the distance. Though it was already dark and cold, and there were no feasts in this time of the year, he could hear people talking and laughing in the city he was about to enter. He wasn't sure if it was Cornwall, though a voice in his head whispered it wasn't. This was smaller, friendlier and less Magical.

Merlin entered the town. On the streets, many people were still chatting and working, and Merlin realised why there still was so much rumour. Apparently, it had been a market day, and many vendors were still storing their wares. Immediately, he understood it hadn't been a market as he knew it in Camelot, where food and clothes were sold. A bearded man carefully put draughts in a box, a jester bewitched a bench, that stood against a housefront, and it started dancing, and children laughed and clapped after his little trick. And a lady stored leeches and death toads, she looked at her unsold wares, her eyes flashed gold and the bowls, filled with vermin, floated on her barrow.

"Love draughts, lad?" Merlin was startled after hearing the scraping voice, next to his ear. An old woman, dressed in rags and with a lump on her back, held a small, purple bottle in front of him. "Mix it with the tea of the girl you desire, and she will become yours."

"No, thanks", Merlin said hastily, and he hurried away from the centre of the town. The side streets he found himself in now, were dark and abandoned. A circle of light attracted his attention. He heard songs and laughter, coming out of an old pub.

Though he was surrounded by Magicians, and it would've been logical if he felt at home with them, Merlin found it hard to say he felt comfortable, but nonetheless, he entered the tavern.

The first thing he noticed, was that there were only jabbering men and sensual women in the inn, and they all appeared to be as tight as a drum. Merlin decided he should tell Gwaine about this place when he got back home, but now he sat down, silent and awkward, at an empty table, standing in the corner. His entrance must have been really inconspicuous, because after fifteen minutes, still no-one had come to ask for his order. But he hadn't entered the inn to get drunk, but to gain information, so he stood up and went to the bar.

"Excuse me", he spoke. The bartender, a fat man with a reddish, bristly moustache and a red face, turned around. "I am looking for someone, and I was wondering if she might be in the neighbourhood?"

"What would _she_ do in Tintagel if _she_ is, just like you, non-Magical?" the bartender said, haughty. Merlin had no idea why he was talking to him in this way, but he supposed he would lose many customers if he would talk like that to everyone.

"I am Magical, and she is as well", Merlin said. In Camelot, he wouldn't even dare to think those words, but here, he had nothing to fear.

"I've never seen you before", the bartender noticed, rigidly.

"No, but maybe you've already seen her?" Merlin said, though he knew for certain you would never find Morgana in a pub, and most certainly not among these folks.

At that moment, the door opened. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have been such a great news, but the man who entered the tavern made so many fanciful gestures and yelled that loud: "Angus, give every man something to drink! I'll pay!" that everyone was now looking at the lad, and some started to applaud.

"And how are you planning to pay, Cormac?"

"With this", the man, who's name was Cormac, spoke. Smirking, he took a full purse out of his pocket.

That was prove enough for Angus, the bartender, and before Merlin realised, he was pushed aside by hundreds of thirsty souls.

"Since when do people earn so much money by selling horses?" a man yearned at Cormac, who, apparently, was a horse-dealer.

"Since I sold the black horse. It's a beauty, I'm telling you", Cormac sighed, happily.

"Who on earth possesses enough money to buy such an animal?" the other man asked, surprised.

"The oldest of the two sisters, the one with the fair hair, who live at the seaside. You know, the High Priestesses", Cormac answered. Merlin felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. He went closer and pricked up his ears.

"I wonder where they get the money from", the other man said. He took his mug and emptied it at a draught, followed by sweeping away the foam on his mouth.

"Some say they descend from noblemen", Cormac answered, simply. A servant came with a tray, on which seven ails were placed, and Cormac took one with style, proving he had done that many times before. After he drank health to himself, he took a draught. Merlin, however, wasn't able to keep his mouth shut any more, and he walked towards the two men.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me a bit more about those two sisters you were talking about?" he asked politely, but urgent.

"Ha, I suppose you want to now if they're still available, isn't it? They are handsome, I must say. But, unfortunately, devoted to the gods, and not to us, mortal men." Cormac tapped Merlin so hard on his shoulder, he almost threw the boy out off his balance.

"What are their names?" Merlin asked however, ignoring Cormac's previous answer.

"Uhm... I don't even know... Kevin," he addressed the other man, "what are the two sister's names?"

"The youngest is called Morgan Le Fay, but I don't know if that's her real name," Kevin spoke, "the Druids call her like that."

"Morgan Le Fay", Cormac repeated for Merlin, shrugging.

"Morgan... Morgana? Are you sure her name isn't Morgana?" Merlin asked. He felt his heart in his mouth. His hands were clammy as he awaited the answer.

"Morgan! Morgana! That's all the same!" Cormac boomed. "Handsome girl, she is. Very handsome. And still very young, you know. She is barely past childhood," Cormac rattled, "she has come to me, some days ago, to hire two horses."

"What does she look like?" Merlin asked. He wanted to be certain, before he was going to do something utterly stupid (though he had the feeling he was already doing something utterly stupid).

"Like I said, handsome." That left Merlin no wiser than before.

"Does she have black hair?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Raven-black", Cormac nodded.

"And piercing, green eyes", Kevin added.

"She doesn't look like her sister, who has blond hair and brown eyes", Cormac spoke again.

"Where can I find them?" Merlin asked, nervously. There was no doubt of it anymore. Morgan Le Fay was the same person as Morgana Pendragon, he was sure of it.

"In a cottage on the dunes," Kevin said, "they live quite out of the way."

"Thanks!" Merlin said. He ran out of the inn, happy he could inhale the fresh air again, and only half realising he was about to face his arch-enemy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

Merlin couldn't remember the last time he had been so excited. He followed the noise of the sea and descended the hills, as he wanted to try his luck on the dunes. He wondered why Morgana was now called 'Morgan Le Fay', but eventually, he concluded it didn't really matter. He ran over the dunes as if he was going to visit an old friend, and for some reason, he'd almost forgotten she had become his worst enemy and she would most likely try to kill him.

But then he remembered her fiery look and her golden eyes from the last time they'd seen each other, and it brought him back to his senses.

Suddenly, he stopped running and panted for breath.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" he murmured to himself. "This is Morgana... she _hates_ me." He'd never realised how much those words could hurt him, but all of a sudden, they grieved him more than ever before. He wished he could go back in time, to tell her he has Magic. He would have taken her under his wing, and then he wouldn't have been forced to consider how he would tell her now.

But this wasn't the time, nor the place, to pity himself, he knew. He had already come this far, so he would continue his plan, no matter what happened.

He remembered how he, a long time ago, had protected Morgana on her flight with the Druids, and how she'd promised him she would never forget it. In fact, that became the only thing he could still hope for: her memory of the time they'd been friends and they cared about each other. But with every step, he began to realise she'd already repressed those thoughts four years ago.

But what could he do? Could he just knock on the door and ask if he could speak to her? In the middle of the night? Even by day, she would already have cast a spell on him before he could even open his mouth. And what about Morgause? Merlin knew well enough he would get the worst of it if he would face the two sisters, just as he didn't expect he would ever win against Morgause, who was trained to kill. Though he gave himself a fair chance if it would come to an encounter with Morgana, he didn't want to combat her at all. He'd never wanted to.

In the distance, he saw a cottage. It looked small and comfortable, and Merlin realised, with a shock, it looked just like the house he'd seen in his very first dream. He walked further, with no idea of how he would set about it. He'd never felt more stupid, but he thought he had to try.

Instinctively, he got an idea. Morgana wouldn't be able to attack him if he would call her from a save distance, like he could do, with his Magic.

He closed his eyes, canalized Magic and collected it in his thoughts. He concentrated on her, and thought: "Morgana? Morgana? Morgan Le Fay?"

He didn't get a reply.

"Morgana. I need to speak to you."

Nothing.

Merlin started to wonder if Morgana was able to communicate trough thoughts. Magic was something very individual and, therefore, difficult to understand. Morgana was a Seer, and could see the future, something Merlin had never done before without the help of Magical objects, and he knew he would never be able to do it as good as her.

He approached the house and became more and more convinced this was definitely by far the dumbest thing he'd ever done.

"Morgana?" he tried again, hoping she would answer him now he stood closer to the house, but again, nobody answered.

No lights were burning in the cottage, so Merlin presumed no-one was inside. His feet led him further, to the front door, more or less against his will. Everything inside of him yelled he shouldn't do it and he was the biggest idiot ever alive, but it was as if the house pulled him indoors, as a magnet, and he couldn't resist.

He put his hand on the door, took a deep breath and decided he could better be prepared on a painful, Magical outburst of two powerful sorceresses.

But the door was locked. Merlin sighed in relief, because it gave him a second clue the house would be empty.

"_Yppe_", he whispered. The door cracked open, and he stepped inside, cautiously. "_Léohtfæt_", he spoke. After that simple spell, the whole room lighted up. Merlin felt how his lips smiled, unintentionally. If the sisters would have been present, they would have killed him already. On the other hand, it was no good to him that she – Morgana -_wasn't_ at home.

Merlin looked around uneasily, while he wondered what his next move could be. He knew he could better go to Cornwall, where the High Priestesses lived, but on the other hand, this was a great opportunity to see how his two enemies lived. Maybe, some interesting information could be found in the same room as he was in? He had to take the opportunity, though a soft voice in his head whispered he shouldn't poke his nose into everything. But this was something different, he thought, so he had the right to be curious.

The living room was, surprisingly, cosy and Merlin could imagine it would be pleasantly illuminated during the summer, so the inhabitants would easily forget about the harsh winter. Everything was cleaned up properly and Merlin felt, slightly annoyed, how enviousness rose to his throat. He would have loved to live in such a house (if it wasn't for Morgana and Morgause, who already lived in it). He had to be happy with his dark, grey room within the walls of Camelot, far away from the sea or any other place where Magic wasn't considered as being a cardinal sin.

For the umpteenth time, he had to repress the thought of how unfair destiny was.

But instead of complaining, he turned around, to see a bookshelf, standing in the corner. Hesitating, he had the strange feeling both Morgana and Morgause were in the neighbourhood, he walked towards it and ran over the yellowed, leather frame of the books, which showed many similarities with the book of spells he carried with him in his backpack.

At random, he took one and turned over the leaves of the book. A variety of herbs and their abilities, was reviewed, followed by instructions of how to make several draughts, as if it were recipes.

Gaius had taught Merlin many things about herbs, something which was necessary, because Merlin had to take over the role as a court physician, and Merlin could only conclude that the book could be very dangerous in the wrong hands, as it showed its readers how to murder someone with a poison, based on the seeds of the castor oil plant. It wasn't any wonder Morgause kept this book in her bookshelf.

Merlin put the book back, and decided the living room wasn't as comfortable as he had first been assuming, so he turned his glance towards the door on the other side of the room.

He opened it cautiously, he still wouldn't take a huge risk if somebody was inside, and entered. He felt how a sigh in relief escaped his body, as there was indeed no-one in the room, and closed the door.

It was a bedroom, and for some reason, Merlin could immediately tell it was Morgana's.

Maybe it was because of the green tunic, resting on a chair, and he remembered how Morgana had often worn green clothes (unlike Morgause), or because the bed wasn't made, something Morgana would never do herself, as she wasn't used to do it? However, Merlin knew for certain he had entered her room.

The light of the moon shone through the window when Merlin sat down on the soft, unmade bed. He couldn't tell which feeling was the strongest: relieve because he was still alive, or disappointment as he hadn't found Morgana yet.

Suddenly, he realised how the exhaustion took possession of him. His legs felt as if they were made out of lead, and his eyelids fell down before he was even aware of it.

So it was high time he stood up again, to stop the upcoming sleep. He didn't know when Morgana and Morgause would return, but when they did, and they found him sleeping in Morgana's bed... well, he rather didn't think about it.

The wind blew hard. The sea raged and the waves banged against the rocks. The house was dancing on the music of the wind. Merlin knew this wasn't the kind of weather to sleep in the open air (and wondered how Morgana succeeded to sleep inhere peacefully, he remembered she'd always had troubles sleeping), so he would go back to Tintagel, and spend the night in a tavern.

He'd already laid his hand on the doorknob, when he startled suddenly and his body turned to stone. He could swear he had heard a door opening, and his presumption was confirmed when he felt how the Magical energy around him had changed, had become stronger.

In less than no time, he regained his paralysed limbs and looked, terrified, through the keyhole, half hoping and half fearing he would see Morgana.

But that wasn't the case.

Morgause took off her soaking wet, red coat, ran her fingers through her blond hair and went to the fireplace. Though Merlin wasn't able to see it, he knew her eyes coloured gold, as the flames started to light out of nothing.

Vigorously, she walked out of Merlin's limited, keyhole-formed range. Merlin didn't dare to move, afraid she would hear him. He was surprised she didn't _feel_ him, as he had felt her. On the other hand, it was most likely because she was used to this strong, Magical energy, because she always stayed here with Morgana, so she didn't pay attention to it.

Morgause stepped back in Merlin's range and put a luxurious dagger on the table. Merlin recognized the dagger at once: it had been Arthur's birthday present for Morgana, when she turned twenty-one years old.

But that was the least of his worries. He choked unintentionally, because the last time he'd seen Morgause, she had been deadly injured, but now she appeared to be stronger than ever. Not only physically, but also the Magical energy, which was flowing around her, seemed to be even more powerful than ever before.

She reminded Merlin of Nimueh, only Morgause looked even mightier, even more dangerous. She was trained to kill, and Merlin didn't have to doubt for a second she wouldn't hesitate to do so when she would notice him.

He didn't have a choice. He had to leave now he still had the chance.

He stood up and hurried towards the window.

While he was running, he suddenly felt a very painful sting in his head, like he was having a horrible migraine attack. He tried to focus on his escape and to keep on running, but he fell down on his knees before he even realised.

"No! I have to get out of here!" he whispered to himself.

He fell down on the floor and was barely able to control his own body. His head was about to burst and he felt how tears sprung into his eyes, because of the pain he experienced.

In the far distance, he saw a young woman with raven-black hair, riding on a black horse. She was galloping through the woods, heading for the North.

He heard the sound of a door, and not even a second later, Merlin rolled away instinctively, avoiding a red flash.

"Y_ou",_ Morgause hissed. She stared at him for a couple of moments, staggered and with golden eyes, after which she shouted: "_Déadian mé niman þéostornes ábrecan anmitta_!"

Again, Merlin had to roll on his side, by which the beam of light hit the wall instead of him, what made the wall collapse. Merlin could hear the storming wind behind him, raging through the open space.

In the meantime, his headache had disappeared, as fast as it had showed up. He jumped up as fast as he could.

"_Léfung_!" Morgause shouted again. Merlin bended over quickly and was able to avoid the spell, for the second time.

"_Ymbhringan_!" Merlin yelled back. He stretched out his hand, and a cold breeze blew in the direction of the sorceress. Morgause pushed back the spell, carelessly, in a spontaneous burst of amber-coloured eyes and a glance as cold as steel.

"Whom do you think you're fighting with?" she snapped, almost insulted. "Do you really think you can defeat me by using a simple air spell?"

"_Lyft _ǽðm!" Merlin yelled again, ignoring Morgause's comment. But again, Morgause didn't even have to step aside. Only by raising her hand, the -usually effective- spell vanished.

"What are you looking for? Why aren't you protecting your king Arthur?" she sneered, almost sounding indifferent.

Merlin realised he was in deep trouble. He would never be able to beat Morgause. The only thing he could think of, was to play for time.

"Can't you have a little flutter?" he answered, and astonishingly, Morgause smirked.

"I know very well why you're here," she said, "you are looking for Morgana." Merlin looked at her, surprised, and he almost forgot he was involved in a fight, and losing. "Do not think you've got any secrets for me."

That statement startled Merlin more than he expressed. He wouldn't show her how afraid he really was, so he still stared at her. The only thing he could think of, was that he had to try to keep talking to her, until he would think of a more decent solution.

"Where is she?" he blurted out, being the first thought crossing his mind. But when he said that, he realised he already knew the answer. _She_ had been the woman with the horse he'd seen during the short time the headache had been controlling him. Of course it had been her. Who else could it be?

Apparently, Morgause didn't realise Merlin knew the answer to his own question, because she spoke, calm: "I am not going to tell you."

Merlin had to repress a smile. It seemed to be that he still had secrets for her.

"_Yfelsæc_", Morgause murmured at that moment, unexpectedly. Unprepared for the attack, Merlin collapsed. It felt as if he had lost all his bones in his legs. Scared, he saw how Morgause walked towards him, unemotionally.

She stretched out her hand and smiled, apparently sincerely enjoying the moment right before the murder she was about to commit. "It wasn't a good idea to go to Tintagel, Merlin", she said, in a honeyed voice. "You are an idiot."

"You aren't the first one who calls me that," Merlin spoke, agitated, "and you aren't going to be the last one as well." In less than no time, he collected all the Magic he possessed and concentrated on making the space around him disappear, as he'd seen Morgause doing in the throne room, when Morgana had been poisoned and she'd fled away with her, in a burst of wind and dust. "_Lúcan ætfléon æt nicc_!" he yearned. He had never pronounced the spell before, he had only come across it while reading in his book of spells, but he realised he had only one chance to succeed.

He experienced the strange feeling as if he was fading away in the Magical energy he'd collected, and before he was fully aware of it, he found himself lying on his back in a field. In the distance, he could see the towers of Camelot, and he sighed, while he slowly started to feel his legs again.

Merlin couldn't help but feeling incredibly relieved because he had escaped in a nick of time. But more important was the fact he now, for some reason, perfectly knew where he had to go. Where that strange headache had come from, he didn't know (probably it had to do with the Bond, again), but it had helped him to locate Morgana. He couldn't quite explain how it felt, but it was like someone had suddenly tied a rope around his waist and around hers, making him follow her wherever she went.

But tonight, he wouldn't even move a finger anymore. Despite the rather spectacular happenings which had just came to pass, he fell asleep in no time, ignoring the storm.

**~Please review~**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry that it has taken so long before another update! I've been very busy with school and all sort of things..**

**but here's chapter 14 (I think it's a kind of important chapter in the story, as there is some character/mental/psychological development – again :))**

**chapter 15, which will contain more action and sounds scary in my head :-), will be updated sooner, I hope ;-)**

**~Please review~**

The long hours transformed into long days, and Morgana caught herself riding less without stopping, and taking more short breaks than before. Not because she grew tired (though the exhaustion was already sneaking through her body, but she didn't want to respond to it), but because Nox – no matter how strong and athletic the horse might be – wouldn't be able to persist if she had to gallop the whole time. That's why Morgana had decided that she wouldn't continue her journey during the night, but she would just sleep, like any other sane person would do.

But the nights were freezing and rainy. Morgana tried to keep herself warm by lighting a fire, that went out immediately, and cursing the High priestesses ("Why on earth do they have to let me take the Test during a_utumn_? Why not during the summer?") - simply to keep herself busy.

She almost started to wish that she would encounter werewolves, vampires and trolls. At least, it would distract her from that bloody weather.

A week did pass. Morgana had no idea anymore of where she was, she only knew she was constantly riding to the North. On the road, she crossed several villages, though she only stopped to lay in supplies. The people were rough and unfriendly, and Morgana instinctively knew she could better not hint that she was a sorceress. Although she presumed no place in the world was as resentful towards Magic as Camelot, and she secretly longed for some action, she didn't really fancy the idea of slaughtering a whole village because they were chasing her with pitchforks and burning torches. Once, queen Morgana had given the order to shoot down the innocent citizens, for Morgause had asked her to do so – she had given her the advice to take strong action. But it was all very easy for her to talk about such matters, because she was used to the killing – the blood – the screams.

But Morgana never regretted the loss of lives on her conscience. It had been necessary, she hadn't had a choice. It had been her duty as a queen.

Nonetheless, she never recalled those days when she'd claimed her rightful place on the throne of Camelot. She'd left them behind. She had nothing to do with it anymore.

The night had fallen, and Morgana halted. Her prayers to the gods had been answered after all, as it had finally stopped raining. The earth was swampy and the raindrops trickled on the ground. Morgana got off her horse, and when Nox didn't feel the weight of her mistress anymore, she started to drink from one of the many pools on the soaking wet field.

"I'm sorry I have to tire you out, Nox," she put her hand on the animal's mouth and kissed it softly, "you're the best companion I can imagine." She meant every word.

She looked for a place without too many boggy leaves, and eventually murmured: "_Næssa drýgnes_." A whirlwind escaped from the fingertips of her stretched out right hand and dried off the earth.

Wearily, she sat down, and took out a brown blanket from her backpack. It had already come in very useful during the cold nights, and it seemed that it would come in handy again. She wrapped it up around her shoulders, whispered _'forbearnán'_ and watched the flames arising from the wet branches. Luckily, Magic was stronger than a liquid earth.

"Come and sit next to me, my loyal horse", Morgana pleaded her comrade, who was staring uneasily at the sparkling fire – with big, brown eyes.

"_Dá nicc licgan áblycgan, fréond tó gehygd_", Morgana spoke – in the Old Language – to the beautiful horse. Those words persuaded the animal, and the horse lay down, comforted, and warming herself to the fire. Morgana smiled. Talking to horses was a trick Morgause had taught her. Morgause, tamer of horses, as the High priestesses in Cornwall sometimes called her. Apparently, there was nothing Morgause couldn't do.

"She can't love", a voice inside Morgana's head muttered. But she ignored it, for the umpteenth time that week.

She ensconced herself under the blanket, and tried to ignore the stinging branches in her back, and – after some restless minutes – fell asleep.

After half an hour, or an hour, Morgana awoke suddenly. She lay on her side, and found herself clamping her left hand around her right wrist, and setting her teeth to stop the unexpected pain.

She had the feeling as if someone had just fastened a leather belt around her wrist, or had chained her with tight cuffs (an ache she knew very well). She held her arm close to the fire, and stared at her blood stained wrist. The sleeping bracelet, which Morgause had given her some years back, had turned red because of the wound. Nonetheless, she wore the gem, which bore the symbol of the house of Gorlois, only loosely around her wrist, as always. However, the silver appeared to light up, though Morgana presumed it was only an illusion, because she was keeping it very close to the fire.

Shocked, Morgana kept glaring at the bracelet and at her own, dropping blood. Could it be Morgause's doing?

Immediately, she repressed that thought. Not because Morgause wouldn't be _capable_ of cursing the jewel Morgana cared about most, but because she would be more subtle, like when she and Morgana had given Arthur the bracelet with the eye of the Phoenix.

Morgana felt how Magic dug its way through her skin, and she didn't have to doubt for a very long time before she decided it was better to take it off.

She removed the bracelet from her wounded wrist and put it in her backpack. The pain disappeared instantly, but she couldn't call herself relieved because she wasn't wearing it anymore. She had never removed it before, and now that she did, she could only feel vulnerable and naked, as she realised she could now suffer from terrible nightmares. She could see pain and sadness in her sleep again, and the people she cared about most would have to grieve in her dreams, and she would have to stand aside, helpless. And the worst thing was that it weren't ordinary nightmares, but it was the future.

For a moment, she felt the desire to put it on anyway, but instinctively she knew it was better if she didn't.

Morgana tried to pull herself together, to persuade herself it wasn't certain if she would suffer from nightmares again. Perhaps, she would only sleep until daylight, without those horrible dreams?

She lay down again and turned on her side. She could hear Nox's soft breathing, and wished she would sleep just as peacefully.

_Restless, Morgana walked through the mist. She looked around anxiously, but she couldn't see anything. As if it would help, she waved her arms through the dense fog, but she could as well have hit away the sky. _

_So she walked on, nervous. She could hear all kinds of sounds, though she didn't know if they were real, or only evolved out of her own imagination. Wolves, ravens and a blaring song. She didn't know what to make of it, and in fact, she didn't even want to think about it, she just wanted to get out._

_She moved on quickly, while having the distressing feeling someone was spying on her. Continually, she kept looking behind, but she still couldn't distinguish something or someone._

_"There is no-one here, Morgana", she spoke to herself, though she had the feeling it was a lie. "It's merely an illusion." She tried to keep the words Morgause always told her in mind: 'Do not forget that fear is our worst enemy.' "I am only frightening myself", she spoke, in an attempt to be brave. She had the feeling she always fooled herself that she was braver than she actually was. _

_Though the howling of the wolves and the cries of the ravens slowly faded away, the singing appeared to become even stronger. It reminded Morgana of the Druids who had chosen a life consecrated to the gods, and who threw themselves into a trance with those songs. But the one she was hearing, was something different. It sounded more horrid, almost like a requiem. _

_"Morgana!" an ominous voice suddenly whispered. The mist seemed to be trembling, and she startled. "Morgana, come!" she heard, after some seconds of standing stock-still, again._

_"Who's saying that?" she yelled back. Although her voice was trembling, she tried to make herself believe she sounded somehow courageous._

_"Come!"_

_Every limb gave its best shot to prevent her from taking another step, but her curiosity beat her fear, so she marched on, grinding her teeth. _

_The further she got, the more the fog seemed to disappear. It became remarkably warmer, but on the inside, Morgana still felt cold and terrified._

_In the distance, she could recognize a fire. She realized that should be the place where the singing and the voice came from, and after a short moment of hesitation, she went to that mysterious place._

_There were about twelve men, dressed in blue cloaks, standing around a fire. All of a sudden, Morgana became aware of the fact that she knew the language in which they were singing, though it hasn't been spoken out loud by most people for centuries, only by the ones who studied and mastered the Old Religion._

_"Are you Druids?" she asked, with a quivering, though still powerful voice. _

_"Very good, Morgana. Clever girl," the Druid in the centre spoke, this time in her native tongue, on a tone which gave her the impression as if he was speaking to a five-year-old, "but we are not like the Druids you've already met. We are the Druids of the Old Religion, we are the Seers." She couldn't see the man's face, as it was hidden underneath his cap. It annoyed her excessively, because now she had no single clue to tell whether she could trust him or not. _

_"What are you doing here?" she asked. She looked around and noticed that the Druids were standing around a marble altar. Clearly, they were doing some sort of ritual. _

_"We are waiting for you", the man in the middle, who was probably their leader, spoke again. _

_"I am here now", Morgana answered rebelliously. She didn't know what these men were planning to do to her, but now she – apparently – had become a part of their ceremony, she bravely made up her mind to get out of it. If necessary, by force. _

_"We are waiting for your destiny", the leader said._

_"My destiny?" Morgana replied, staggered. _

_"You are still young, Morgan Le Fay. You don't know how long we've been waiting", the Druid said. _

_"What's my destiny?" Morgana asked, both inquiring as suspicious. For a short moment, she wondered why they called her Morgan Le Fay – 'Morgan the fairy' – but she ignored her bizarre nickname as she was awaiting the response. _

_"You are destined to do great things. You will change the future forever, and peace and prosperity will return to Camelot."_

_"No, you're wrong," Morgana said seriously, "I've already heard that I am, apparently, destined to do great things, but I'll never, ever, return to Camelot, and I most certainly won't be responsible for peace and prosperity over there."_

_"No, Morgan. You are wrong."_

_At that moment, the air around her started to tarnish. The mist grew denser, the fire extinguished slowly and the Druids disappeared._

_"No! Wait!" she shouted, but it was already too late. _

_Agitated, Morgana looked around, while the ground underneath her feet changed into a whirling tornado. Instinctively, she ran away, through the dark haze. She couldn't see anything, and felt how panic rose inside of her, just as much as the whirlwind under her. She heard the collapsing of rocks, which weren't there before, behind her, but she didn't dare to look back, afraid of what she might see. She just kept running for minutes, for hours. She had no idea of how long she actually rushed through that horrible darkness, though she had the feeling time didn't exist in the world she was in now. _

_Suddenly, as if someone had just lit a candle, she saw a light beaming in the distance. Instantly, she knew, for some reason, she was safe again, as long as she would just walk in the direction of the light. Her breath stabilized again, and she found herself smiling in relief. Even when she saw a dark shadow, his contours (she knew for certain it was a man, in fact she knew for certain who he was) contrasted heavily with the light, she didn't feel afraid anymore. _

_The more she stepped into the light, and left the darkness behind, the more she longed to be with him. Unintentionally, she stretched out her hands, and Merlin smiled and started walking towards her as well._

_She didn't feel any hate anymore, she couldn't even remember why she once did. She simply wanted to be with him and tell him how much she loved him._

_He took her hands and gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek. She smiled and realised she could impossibly feel more protected than when she was with him._

_Merlin let go of her hands, pressed his head against her shoulder and put his arms round her waist. She could hear his soft breath against her ear and curled his half-long, black hair with her finger._

_"Morgana." His voice sounded deep and calm, but nonetheless desirous. "Morgana, I've missed you." He lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes. Morgana felt how she suddenly became covered with guilt. He seemed to be so vulnerable, so afraid, and she knew it was all her fault. "Where have you been?"_

_"In darkness", Morgana simply answered. She choked and tried to repress the upcoming tears. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?" she asked quietly. _

_"It doesn't matter", he answered, because he didn't want to hurt her. _

_"It does", she replied. _

_"You are worth waiting", he avoided her question again, with a smile. He pressed his lips against hers. Yearningly, she opened her mouth for him, and she caressed the nape of his neck. He pulled her even closer, until their bodies were almost intertwined. _

She opened her eyes and noticed she was sweating and tears were trickling down her cheeks. For just some seconds, she was naked and Merlin laid next to her, but after she'd blinked her eyes, she was made sure that none of those situations were the case – luckily.

Morgana leant on her elbows and looked around. A part of her expected that Gwen would come to comfort her and reassure her it had only been a dream, as she had done when Morgana suffered from nightmares every night, a very long time ago.

She tasted the salt flavour of her tears. In the darkness of the forest, with only a dancing fire that was separating luminescence from the night, she'd never felt lonelier. The Druids had spoken about some sort of great destiny, but Morgana could only conclude that it only meant loneliness. From the moment Morgause had rescued her from the poison Merlin gave, she'd already heard a lot about her fate. But for some reason, she had always believed she would be able to control it, so she could become whoever she wanted to be.

But there was so much more, so many things she didn't understand, and apparently, she wasn't allowed to understand either. It appeared to be that she had to be guided by the invisible gods of the Old Religion.

Did she have to bear so much for that? Did she have to wake up every night, screaming and sweating, just to hear that she was going to change the future?

Morgana felt how her own, dark Magic was taking possession of her, and how she was barely able to control herself, as if her gifts were a black rose, blossoming in her body.

She stood straight and was shaking in her shoes. Suddenly, she was afraid of herself, and of her own powers. She'd always known she was special. Despite what Gaius had been telling her all the time, she knew she was a Seer, and when she also found out she had Magic, it was beyond doubt. But now the Druids of the Old Religion, who knew a lot more about destiny, had declared it as well, she wished she'd never found out.

Morgana closed her eyes, but she experienced the darkness in her soul over and over again. She was a creature of the night, her Magic was nothing more but chaos, and she would never be able to master it completely. This was who she was. She was born like this, it had already been written in the stars before she was even born. She would go into history, in a thousand years, people would still be remembering her.

Eternity slipped through her fingers, but Morgana would never live long enough to fully understand it. But there was a certain path she had to take.

Together with Merlin?

The tenderness, which was still quivering in her mind after those dreams, startled her even more than the feeling of consisting out of nothing but dark Magic. But instinctively, she could tell that the love she'd felt for him hadn't been real. It was merely a biological reaction. What else could it be? She hated him.

She still felt those tears on her cheeks, and an annoying, throttling feeling in her throat. She didn't want to cry, because it made her feel like a little girl. Like the little girl who needed Gwen's soothing words after another nightmare.

But Gwen was gone. They were gone, all of them. Forever. And it was better like this, Morgana said to herself. It had to be like this.

Except for Morgause. She would never leave Morgause behind. Whatever Morgana's destiny might be, Morgause would always be on her side. Her sister could believe whatever she wanted, but Morgana would disprove everything. She didn't know what kind of blood was running through her veins, but she swore to herself she would do everything to make them trust each other again.

Soothing herself with that thought, she sat down again. The Magic in her soul, in her dark soul, stabilized. In the dusk, she tried to accept who she really was, she tried to embrace her powers and her great destiny. Eventually, she pulled herself together. She put her hand on her blood stained wrist, and realized the burning bracelet had been a token of the gods.

She stared at the stars for a while, felt how the tears slowly dried up, and she was ashamed of herself for being so upset because of her dream. Was it really that bad to hear that she will be responsible for peace and prosperity?

She became conscious of the fact _that_ wasn't the reason she'd been so confused. It was Merlin. He was always the one who had to confuse her, who had to bring out her dark side. No words could describe how much she hated him. She didn't care about her dream and how charming they'd been in that despicable illusion, nothing would change her opinion.

She grabbed her Magical bracelet out of her backpack and put it around her wrist again. It felt cool, and she knew she didn't have to worry anymore.

She sighed in relieve when she had it back on. It had become a part of her, the part that united her with Morgause and her mother, whom she'd never known. It was the part that reassured her she was never alone, no matter what her destiny might bring.


	15. Chapter 15

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Morgana spurred her horse at a tearing pace. Apparently, the horse felt that this was a matter of life and death, because she started galloping without hesitation. She ran through the unspoiled snow and left a trail of hoofs behind her, all over the white landscape.

Morgana looked back in a hurry, and wiped off warm blood from her cheek. The deep cut was the result of an unexpected encounter with a nest of Gremlins: tiny, green creatures with big ears, mean, red eyes and sharp claws. They looked a bit like Kobolds, but they were – as Morgana had just discovered – stronger and more vicious. And, into the bargain, they also had Magic. She could've been a match for one Gremlin, even two, but a whole gang of Gremlins had been too strong. Bloody, little ogres...

She turned her head again and saw about fifty pocket-sized devils, who were staring at her, while stamping their feet and yelling some gibberish.

Morgana laughed and looked back forward, at the endless snow and the endless hills of Scotland.

The last few weeks had gone by much faster than the ones before, because her wish for a contest had finally come out. She had, amongst other things, encountered a crazy, old enchanter. He'd challenged her to a Magical duel. Apparently, the fool had really believed he stood a chance. Although Morgana had never won a single battle before, she knew there was a very good explanation for: she'd only fought Morgause in the past.

However, her sister had explained her the rules of a Magical battle. In fact, it was very simple: there were no rules, except that the combatants had to fight until death. And that was also what happened to the old man. Morgana had ruthlessly killed him, because it had to be like that. Those were the Magical laws, after a challenge, there was no way back, so they couldn't escape it. It had been his own fault.

The umpteenth murder, the umpteenth life she'd taken... and she didn't feel anything. No regrets, no sorry.

But now she knew why, and she cursed her dark soul. She'd become just as numb as the ones she hated. If this had to be her destiny, then she wondered why she had to be the dupe of it.

Not much later, when the first snow had already begun to fall, she'd come across a trio of Serkets. The painful scar on her leg, which had never healed properly, had throbbed obnoxiously when she'd seen the giant scorpions, as if it remembered how much it had suffered after the poisonous sting of its family. But this time, it had been different. She didn't need to rely on sympathetic Druids any more to adjust the Serkets. She only had to say '_céne ǽled_' and watch how the scorpions got charred.

Morgana couldn't help but laughing scornfully at the sight of it. She still hadn't forgotten what their congeners had done to her...

The snow appeared to be an impediment, but nonetheless she liked it more than the rain. It reminded her of Midwinter, fiery snowball fights with Arthur, ice skating and warm milk with honey in front of the fireplace.

Winter in Camelot had, doubtlessly, been the most magical time of the year, though Uther would never have admitted it. However, Magic had always been right under his very nose. It could be found in the smallest of things.

While being absorbed in thoughts about her days in Camelot, which hadn't been that bad before she'd found out she had Magic, she realised only after a couple of hours that the trail of hooves in the snow were the same as Nox's, and she'd seen the same bald trees and the same hills before.

Morgana shook her head in disbelief. What Supreme Beings were fooling her, she wondered. She could impossibly get lost, because she was always heading to the same direction, wasn't it? Maybe it was merely an illusion, because the landscape looked so much alike (though she had to admit that wasn't true, but she wanted to deceive herself, because she considered the thought of being _lost_ to be very embarrassing)?

So she kept moving on, and kept seeing the same hills, the same mountains, the same trees and the same frozen lakes again and again.

"What, in the name of the Goddess, it this supposed to mean?" she cursed out loud, after she'd came across the rock, which looked like highland cattle, for the fifth time. She stopped and jumped off her horse, in the snow, that already reached to her knees. Her cheeks were pink because of the coldness, she'd already pulled the sleeves of her tunic over her hands to protect herself against it, but on the inside, she was starting to feel the warmth of nervousness. It should be Magic, there was no other explanation.

"_Áwréon galdorléoð_", Morgana murmured a simple but effective spell, which Morgause had taught her, and was supposed to reveal the basic Magic that surrounded the one who spoke it.

Her green eyes turned golden for a second, but Morgana couldn't feel anything but her own Magic.

She tried to keep herself under control and to think logically, as panicking wasn't a good idea. Why hadn't Morgause taught her a spell that could show her the way? Probably because her sister presumed that her younger sibling was smarter than getting lost when she only had to ride to the North, Morgana accused herself sullenly.

She looked around, hoping that there was at least _something_ that could help her to take her bearings. Snow covered mountains, an endless sight of white hills, a frozen river, a giant opening in the mountain, a bald forest, a... – giant opening in the mountain? She hadn't seen that before, she was sure of it. She would have noticed it already, because it was hard to miss it.

So that clearly was Magic. How else could one explain something which hadn't been there before, and now it was?

Cautious, she stared at the opening of something which was undoubtedly a gigantic cave. She wanted to take a look, because it was the only thing she hadn't seen before in the landscape, but, on the other hand, it appeared to be rather obscure. If there was such powerful Magic in the neighbourhood, then she could better be careful. Nonetheless, it gave her no advantage when she simply stood still, so she took her horse's bridles and pushed her way through the snow, towards the cave, while she unintentionally closed her hand around her dagger. She caught herself already collecting Magic in her head, ready to use it if necessary.

The closer she got, the more she started to feel the Magic of the cave, crackling around her. Her own Magic guided her to it, began to flew through her body and was slowly taking possession of her.

But nothing happened. Not a single furious creature escaped from the cave, and there were no triggers which fired a bunch of arrows at her from the moment she'd reached an estimated point. She was standing in front of the entrance of the dark cave, and there was absolutely nothing to be seen.

"Hello, there", a voice suddenly spoke. Morgana startled, snapped, lost her balance and fell in the snow. Automatically, she took her dagger out of her belt and held it in her outstretched hand, while she was hastily looking around. "Put that thing away, Morgana. You might hurt someone", the same voice behind her said, on a friendly tone.

Morgana turned her head in less than no time. A small, very small man with a brown cap and a kind face was jovially staring at her. Although he looked like he wouldn't even harm a fly, he'd still almost frightened her to death.

"How do you know my name?" Morgana asked suspiciously.

"Your name is very well known in this area", the little man smiled.

"How could that be? I've never been here before." Morgana glanced at him in disbelief.

"No, you're not," he leaned a bit over, until he was able to converse at eye level with the young sorceress, who was still supporting on her elbows in the snow, "but your name has."

"Funny", Morgana sneered, on a sarcastic tone which Morgause wouldn't have done any better. But the little man kept smiling, and stretched out his hand. Morgana hesitated for a moment, but decided eventually she could as well take it. He shook her hand and pulled her – with a surprising strength – out of the snow.

"I'm Grettir", the Dwarf said, while Morgana tried her best to wipe off the snow from her black cloak.

"Nice to meet you", Morgana answered, though she wasn't sure if she really meant those words. Nonetheless, the years at the royal court had taught her politeness and charm, and those were two characteristics which she would possess for the rest of her life, as they were drummed into her head when she was just a small child.

"How is your brother, Morgana?" Grettir asked then, on a tone which he clearly assumed to be innocent, though the sorceress absolutely didn't like the current subject of their conversation. She stiffened for a second, and it took her some time before she found herself back.

"King, I suppose", Morgana eventually hissed. She didn't want to be queen any more, she didn't want to go back to Camelot and somewhere very deep inside, she still cared a little bit about Arthur (although she would never admit it), but he'd taken away _her_ right to the throne, and for that she would never forgive him.

"Good, very good", Grettir nodded approvingly, "and how is your sister?"

"I'm pleased to say Morgause was still in a perfect health when I left", Morgana spoke without hesitating, as if she'd rehearsed those words before.

"Of course you're pleased to say that", Grettir smirked, and Morgana couldn't say if he was sarcastic or if he truly meant his words. "You'll both need them in the future", he told after a few moments of silence. Here we go again, Morgana thought, yet another ancient riddle from which I'm not supposed to know the answer, undoubtedly.

"Listen," Morgana said, acting calm, though she felt frustration boiling on the inside, "I'm sick of all those stupid riddles. Why would I need them – why would I need Arthur, for Heaven's sake _Arthur_, in the future? Why is it that I will bring back peace and prosperity? Why is it that everybody seems to know what my destiny is, except for myself?" Although she'd wanted to stay calm and to be the epitome of steadiness, her voice rose with every word, until she spoke her final sentence almost shrieking.

"Your destiny is to protect king Arthur and queen Guinevere, to help Merlin to bring back Magic in Camelot and to unite the free lands of Brittannia into the kingdom of Albion", Grettir answered. The smile of his face had disappeared, and he seemed to be very serious.

"W – what?" Morgana stuttered. "What, in the name of the Great Goddess, do you mean by such plain nonsense?" she retorted. She couldn't believe her ears.

"It is the truth." Morgana could only gaze at him. "Someone had to tell you some day", Grettir added, shrugging.

"And who has decided that I should believe you?" Morgana asked, sounding more stubborn than she'd intended to.

"That's completely up to you." This time, the Dwarf smiled again. Morgana, however, looked at him meaningfully, and she didn't had to doubt for a second before she decided she _didn't_ believe him. In fact, what he called 'her destiny', was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "But I believe you were lost", Grettir chuckled then. The sudden change of subject confused Morgana for a brief moment, and for just a minute, she forgot were she was and what she did there. "You'll find your way back at the end of the cave."

"That cave?" Morgana pointed at the hole in the mountain in front of her, though it was the only thing in the neighbourhood that could pass for a cave.

"That cave", Grettir confirmed. Morgana looked inside and had to admit she didn't really fancy the idea to of risking herself into the darkness.

"How do I know it isn't a trap?" she asked uncertainly.

"If I wanted to kill you, Morgana, I would have done it already", the Dwarf said. Morgana wanted to protest, but realised he was right, because she'd neither seen nor heard him coming, so he would have had plenty of time to murder her if he intended to. "It is time to leave", he encouraged her.

"What will I do with my horse?" Morgana asked however. She didn't want to send Nox through the cave, but she absolutely didn't want to leave her behind.

"She doesn't need a cave to get on the other side. I'll make sure she will wait for you at the exit", Grettir smiled.

"And why wouldn't she be needing a cave to get on the other side?" Morgana asked, without being able to hide the contempt in her voice. But the Dwarf only kept on smiling widely, without having the intention of answering her question. "Great... why not?" Morgana grumbled sarcastically. She sighed, looked at Grettir –who was still smiling joyfully – for the last time and headed to the dark entrance of the cave.

"Oh, and Morgana," Morgana turned around, to face him once again, "just one thing."

"What?"

"It's better if you do not see Morgause as your sister yet. One day, when this is all over and you don't have to fulfil your destinies, when your hearts will be free and pure again, then she shall become your sister."

"You just said that I'll be needing her in the future?" Morgana remembered.

"Her wish is to protect you, but her destiny is to kill you", Grettir spoke mysteriously, and even before Morgana could open her mouth, the Dwarf had already disappeared.

The young sorceress stood stock-still in front of the entrance for a couple of moments, still with a pulled dagger.

"I've already witnessed a lot of things, but this was by far the strangest", she murmured, more or less to Nox but mainly to herself. She didn't know what to think about Grettir's final warning, and eventually, she decided she would worry about it once she got out of the cave.

She sighed, tried to collect her courage, glanced over her faithful horse for the last time and stepped into the darkness of the cave.

Immediately, she felt the cave existed only out of Magic. The atmosphere had changed and the heavy pressure appeared to be making for her. But the thing Morgana startled the most, was the distinctive smell. It stank of rotten flesh and the typical smell of the death, which she'd got to know when she'd wandered through the tombs of Camelot with the staff that could summon the deaths.

Instinctively, she knew nothing good would ever come if she went deeper into the cave, so she turned around, with only with thought flowing through her mind: she had to get out of this as quick as she could. Why had she ever trusted Grettir in the first place?

Frightened, she hurried back to the entrance, while only faintly being conscious of the fact that she now had to find another way to escape from the valley.

But suddenly, she stood still. Some time ago, she'd made up her mind to stop running away from her troubles, the malicious, blaming voice in her head spoke. But why was it so difficult?

She heaved a sigh. All the training Morgause had given to her, hadn't only led her Magical abilities up to a point were she'd become a dreaded opponent for everyone – Magical and non-Magical – but it had given her even more self-confidence than she'd already had before. She was smart, talented and powerful, and she knew it. But still, she was afraid to go any further, afraid of whatever might be ahead of her. How could she ever even dare to hope she would become a decent High Priestess one day if she didn't dare to enter a cave?

Angry at her sudden cowardice, she stubbornly turned around and headed again in the direction of the darkness and the Magic. This time, she wouldn't hesitate.

"_Léohtfæt_", she murmured. After that, the whole cave beamed in the Magical light. The walls of the cave were full of old, red grooves, which Morgana only faintly recognised from the oldest books of spells she'd read. She could read the runic alphabet, but the marks, which the ancient Druids had written down, were unknown to her, and even Morgause didn't understand them. Her sister had once told her that they derived from far-off days, and their meaning was now forgotten - "Pity," Morgause had added, "because they contain powerful, Magical abilities, which are unknown to us."

Morgana walked curiously towards one of the walls. With long and small fingers, she touched the red grooves. Magic flew through her body, and though nothing happened, her eyes coloured golden. She smiled for reasons she didn't understand very well, but the familiar feeling Magic brought to her, made her wanting to let her hand rest on the wall for hours.

Morgana remembered how Morgause had told her, last winter – when it had been too cold to go outside – about the Crystal Cave. She'd said that it was there Magic had begun. But no-one knew where it could be. The only thing Morgause had heard about it, was that it could be found in the mythical Valley of the Fallen Kings. Could this be that particular valley? Was this the Crystal Cave?

Although Morgana had to admit that was quite an exciting thought, and she secretly hoped it to be true, her common sense snapped at her that she could impossibly be in the Crystal Cave, because – as its name already gave away – then there would be Crystals everywhere. She knew how such a Crystal looked like, she once had the chance to hold one herself, without realising its value.

But still, she kept believing this wasn't an ordinary Magical cave. There was more. Something more intense, something mystical, something even Morgause wouldn't be able to explain. Something only _she_ was meant to know. After all, her destiny had led her to this place.

Finally, she pulled her hand back from the bizarre wall, glanced at the entrance of the cave for the last time and eventually went forward. Though the light kept on following her, Morgana still noticed, and she hated the thought, that it started to beam less as she made her way to the darker areas of the deep cave.

"_Léohtfæt_", she whispered, hoping that her only source of light would grow stronger again, but nothing happened. Uncomfortably, Morgana thought back at what Morgause had once said to her: when Magic fails, it means that there is another, more powerful, Magical source. "_Léohtfæt_", she tried again, this time with emphasis. It didn't work. The light she'd summoned some minutes ago, only shone weakly in front of her, and it didn't seem like it would become any stronger.

Morgana subconsciously took her dagger even tighter in her clammy hands. While biting on her lower lip, she marched on, through the corridor which became narrower and narrower by every step she took. And in the meantime, the light extinguished slowly.

All Morgana's senses were now on their guard. She realised she would soon lose her sight, so she prepared herself to use all of her other senses. She could hear the dripping of water, together with her footsteps, which echoed throughout the cave. And if she really concentrated herself, she could even swear she perceived her own nervously beating heart among the other, soft sounds.

In the meantime, the scent of death had only become worse. It stunned her in such a way that her eyes started to tear and she had to put her left hand in front of her nose so she wouldn't have to smell it any more.

She took another step, and suddenly, both expected as unexpected, the last bit of light, which was flowing around in the cave, extinguished. Although Morgana had been anticipating it, she still startled. Immediately, she felt how panic rose to her throat. Only now she couldn't see anything any more, she realised how much she'd really trusted on her eyes.

"_Léohtfæt_", she tried, for the last time, desperately. But as she'd already been fearing, nothing happened. "_Líeg æt forð_", she changed her tack, without fully realising what she was doing. Normally, when she pronounced that spell, a cool fire appeared in her hands. It was less strong than the light she'd enchanted in the first place, but at least it would take the darkness away. But now, again, nothing happened. Slowly, Morgana became aware of the fact that it didn't matter what kind of Magic she used, she would never be able to summon a light in this darkness.

Suddenly, it became hard to keep on standing on her trembling legs, and she leaned unconsciously against the wall, while she was having the feeling someone had just punched her in the stomach.

"Oh God... what now? What now?" she murmured. It had all been a trap, and she'd blindly fallen for it. How on earth could she be so stupid? She fiercely wished Morgause would be with her. Even after everything her sister had said on that meeting, many months back, even after Grettir had warned her it was Morgause's destiny to kill her (not that she believed it. Now she was trapped, she didn't believe anything from what Grettir had said any more), she still wanted Morgause to be on her side. Even if Morgause wouldn't completely understand what was happening, she would at least know what to do.

Morgana closed her eyes. What would Morgause do?

"There is no point of standing here, my sister," she heard the voice of her sister saying in her head, and she startled, "you've got to go on. Come on."

She opened her eyes in surprise. The last thing she'd expected to happen, was her sister speaking to her in her mind. Did it mean that Morgause was still on her side? That she could feel that her younger sister was in trouble? It had happened before, so why couldn't it be happening now?

But Morgause wanted her death...

"I don't want you death, Morgana", the sincere voice of her sister sounded again in her head. This time, Morgana wasn't surprised to hear her. Only confused.

"Where are you?" Morgana asked back, using her mind.

"At home", Morgause simply answered. Morgana sighed. She realised that there was no other place in the world she'd rather be at that moment than home.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

"I don't know, but you cannot stay here. It will be your death if you hesitate", Morgause said, much more nervous than she'd ever spoken to anyone.

"I presumed that was exactly what you wanted", Morgana thought before she had been able to stop it. It was followed by a long and awkward silence in which Morgana wished she hadn't said that, because then Morgause would know she'd eavesdropped them, and for so many other reasons. But now she'd thought it anyway, she feared for the answer.

"Why do you think so?" Morgause eventually asked.

Morgana had her answer ready. "I've personally heard you saying it to Lyra and all the others. You think I'm going to cooperate with _Merlin_..." only the though at him made Morgana shiver, "I hate him, Morgause."

"I know", Morgause simply answered.

"Then why? Why do you want me to die?" Morgana wished she'd sounded less desperate. "I don't understand."

"I don't want you to die, I want you to return safe and sound to Cornwall." She sounded so honest... why did she sound so honest?

But Morgause was a very good actress, Morgana knew. She'd already proven that on many occasions.

"Give me one reason why I should believe you", Morgana required severe, although she was relieved Morgause was in Tintagel and not standing next to her, so she couldn't see the upcoming tears in her eyes.

Once again, a long silence followed. Morgana wished it hadn't been there, that Morgause would have been able to give her a reliable answer without hesitating. An answer that would take all the doubts away. But it didn't come, and with every second that passed, Morgana felt how disappointed and frustrated Magic started to take possession of her.

Finally, after some minutes which had seemed to take a lifetime, she could hear the voice of Morgause again, sounding in her head. "You are my sister, Morgana, and the only family I've left. I promised our mother on her death-bed that I would take care of you, no matter what happens, and I will keep that promise."

Morgana swallowed. That was something Morgause had never told her before, she never spoke of their common mother. But the fact she did now, she did say the magical word 'mother', made the lump in her throat crack. Tears ran over her cheeks, while a feeling she hadn't felt for a very long time overwhelmed her: unconditional love for her sister.

"Then why did you say to the High Priestesses I have to die?" she asked, as a little child who needed the comforting words of her mother, or, in Morgana's case, her older sister.

"I don't know, I really don't know." The answer was short, but honest, and though Morgana didn't know what to make of it, she now knew she believed Morgause.

"I'm on your side, Morgause. Always. I don't know what this Bond, or my destiny or whatever means, but I swear I'll always be on your side." She meant every word.

"Morgana, I'm...", Morgause started. Morgana expected she would say something like 'I'm sorry', but contemplated then that wasn't something for her sister, and she got right when Morgause said: "Forget what I've said then, I don't know what came over me. That was then, and this is now. Trust me, like you once did."

"I trust you", Morgana answered automatically, but she know it was true.

"I can't keep talking to you. If the High Priestesses are going to find out I've contacted you, the consequences are going to be severe."

"How do I get out of this?" Morgana quickly asked the most urgent matter, as it became clear to her that she wouldn't be seeing or hearing Morgause again for the coming months.

"I don't know, Morgana, but do not hesitate. I've told you before, and I maintain that you have to trust your Magic. It is stronger represented in you than in other Magicians, and it is no coincidence your Test was more difficult than the others." Morgana hadn't even reconsidered that. She believed that it could both be interpreted as a disturbing and an encouraging thought. "But promise me you'll be careful."

Morgana nodded, then realised Morgause couldn't see her and therefore declared: "I promise."

"Good," Morgause answered, "normally, I won't be contacting you any more, but..."

"Why did you contact me now?" Morgana curiously interrupted.

"Because you needed me", Morgause answered. There she was right, Morgana thought, and she smiled. "Now go", Morgause said after a while.

"I see you after the Test", Morgana responded self-confident. There came no answer, and Morgana already missed the voice of her sister, but on the other hand, she was very grateful she'd heard her.

It had all been a misunderstanding, and although Morgause hadn't been very clear in her declaration, Morgana still knew she was honest, and that made everything right. Faintly, Grettir's prophetic words crossed her mind. "_Her wish is to protect you, but her destiny is to kill you._" But Grettir had pulled her leg. He'd tried to set her against Morgause and had entrapped her, how could she even attempt to believe him?

For a moment, Morgana considered if going back was an option, but something pulled her deeper inside the cave. Morgause had told her she had to trust her Magic, and that led her further into the darkness.

She scanned the rest of the cave, without being able to see anything, and marched on. The smell of death, the scent of corpses and destruction, manifested around her and almost made her retch. With one hand in front of her mouth, and the other still catching her dagger, she courageously went on.

Always straight on... do not hesitate... it was repeated in her head over and over again, as a mantra.

Suddenly, she recognized a faint shine in the distance, as if the light, which had disappeared many minutes ago, had gone to this place. Morgana cautiously walked onto it, until – "Ouch!" A hard bang on her head made her to stagger backwards. Morgana blinked, in an attempt to keep her head, and felt in front of her, to see what could have caused the smack.

A callous rock was the rogue. Morgana grumpily bended over, with a painful throbbing head, and went on all fours to the light.

When she found herself only inches away from the source of light, she saw what it was. It wasn't an ordinary light, nor a flame. It was a Crystal, just like Morgause possessed one and just like the famous Crystal of Neahtid, which Morgana had once stolen from Uther's wealthy store.

She put her dagger back in her backpack, because she still didn't want to try to remove her left hand from her mouth and nose and threw up her breakfast, and took the Crystal with her free right hand. It had already been clearer than all the other Crystals she'd seen before, and when she held it, it lit up even more, until the narrow corridor with the low ceiling lightened completely.

Morgana gratefully smiled. She felt how her own Magic flew through her body and across her right hand to the Crystal, and she instinctively knew she was the one who made it to light up so brightly.

Without thinking, she examined her reflection, which she hadn't seen in weeks. She noticed she looked tired and her vivid, limegreen eyes were still red, because of the tears she'd cried. Her raven-black hair was a crisscross of curls, waves and wild locks. It was hard to believe that there had been days that her full time job existed of combing and fixing her hair. The blood of the deep cut, which she had received this morning after she'd encountered those Gremlins, had dried and was now an unattractive, red line on her cheek, and the smack she'd gotten just a minute ago, already started to become visible in the shape of a beginning bruise on her forehead.

She looked more mature, she noticed. She stared closer into the Crystal, in a haughty and futile attempt to fix her hair more or less, when the image suddenly changed.

She was twenty-one, looked healthy and determined and her pitch-black hair was in an elegant bun underneath a richly decorated crown, finished with the most expensive diamonds and jewels. She was sitting on the too large throne of her father, Uther Pendragon, and smirked satisfied. She was wearing the most beautiful dress she had – the silk, purple one with the golden laces.

Her face, which looked juvenile in comparison with the sharp, grown-up face of the twenty-three year old Morgana – who was looking in complete astonishment at the Crystal – was extremely beautiful but frightening at the same time. It was pallid, as if she was death, and her lips were flaming red. But the scariest thing were her eyes, as cold as steel. There was no life in those eyes, only death.

The eyes of queen Morgana Pendragon of Camelot.

The eyes of a murderess.

Morgana quickly removed her glance. She didn't want to see it any more, wanted to deny, even forget, what she'd just been seeing.

She looked back in front of her, in the light, and suddenly startled. There was someone over there, she could see his contours. Her heart started to beat faster, and she jumped upright in a second, still holding the Crystal tightly.

"Who is there?" she yelled in an undertone, as her hand was still in front of her mouth, to the person. There came no answer, and for a moment, Morgana thought she was finding herself inside one of her nightmares. "Answer me!"

"My name is Gerallt", a sinister man voice replied. His contours became cleared while a man, Morgana estimated he was about thirty-five years old, stepped into the light. He looked ashen and his clothes were torn and blood stained. The blood was still pouring out of his stomach, in which a red dagger of the Bloodguard was situated.

She knew him. She'd murdered him, one night, back in Camelot.

Morgana trembled like a reed, and fiercely shook her head. This wasn't real, she was only imagining it...

Behind her, a second man walked towards her. His clothes were covered in blood as well, while two arrows sticked out of his chest. He looked at her, his face infuriated, and she automatically stepped backwards, until she felt something cold against her body.

She hastily turned around, and looked inside the lifeless, grey eyes of an older woman, with an arrow in her head.

"What's wrong, queen Morgana?" her ominous voice asked. "Are you afraid of the death?"

"Go away!" Morgana screamed. She stroke out left and right, through the foggy appearances which surrounded her. "Go away!"

A hand pulled at the back of her cloak. Morgana turned around again, and saw a small child with an arrow in his blood stained neck.

"No...", she murmured. She'd never wanted this. She'd never wanted to kill innocent children, she, herself, had been a child as well back then.

"Why did you kill me?" the boy asked. His eyes weren't innocent or confused, as one could expect of such a small child, but they were accusing. Very accusing...

"I... didn't want to...", Morgana stuttered, with tears in her eyes.

"Liar!" a man, on the other side, screamed. Morgana recognised him as being the old wizard who'd refused to let her pass, some weeks back. Her latest victim.

They were everywhere, floating around her and coming closer. It was as if all the air was squeezing out of her lungs, until she couldn't breath any more. Her hands were clam and she had the feeling as if she'd just bumped into that rock for twenty times in a row.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping that all the ghost would've disappeared, but nothing was further from the truth.

They were still floating towards her, with outstretched hands.

"Go away!" she yelled again, with the last bit of air she could still feel in her lungs. Instinctively, she collected her Magic and screamed: "_Céne ǽled_!". Fire escaped from her fingertips, and with a whirlwind, the flames breezed through the long and narrow corridor, right through the ghosts.

"You can't kill us for a second time, queen Morgana", one of the ghosts behind her whispered. Her body became immobile. Their hands were still coming closer. They would kill her, like she'd killed them: without mercy.

She felt how the first, freezing hands touched her, went for her throat. With her free hand, she took the wrist of Gerallt's ghost, the ghost of the guard who'd asked her if she was all right, but another hand took her throat, and finally, all the hands of all the ghosts were surrounding her, and slowly started to strangle her.

Morgana gasped for breath, terrified. Afraid to die, although she didn't deserve any better. Suddenly Magic, acting as her survival instinct, took possession of her. Her eyes turned golden, her body became stronger and fresh oxygen filled her lungs.

With her stronger, Magical body, she waved her arms and kicked, she showed fight. With the latest bit of energy, she pushed them all away, but they all came back.

Eventually, she fell down on the ground, defeated and surrounded by the death of which she would soon be a part. Her muscles were already weakening, her eyelids were giving up the fight and now very, very soon, the latest thing she'd felt in her life, were the suffocating hands of the death.

"_Morgana, drop the Crystal!_" Morgause's voice suddenly echoed urgently through her head. "_Drop it! Break it!_"

Morgana, who hadn't even realised she was still holding the Crystal convulsively, threw the silver-coloured thing away without a second thought, using the very last bit of strength she had left. It ended up against the wall, and fell to thousand pieces. Suddenly, the ghosts disappeared, together with the cave, in a whirling tornado, and before she knew it, she was laying on the cold snow, crying and trembling.

She gasped for breath and inhaled the oxygen as if it was the last time she could feel such a simple and yet valuable thing in her lungs, and indeed, that had been a near thing.

Morgause had saved her life. Without her sister's voice, her body would've been death in the cave, while her spirit would wander amongst the other spirits, doomed to never find redemption.

Her head was almost cracking in pain. Though she knew the ghosts were long gone by now, it was as if they were still standing beside her, about to kill her.

She'd killed them... she'd killed the child...

Morgana turned on her side, and cried bitter tears. Even when she felt Nox's soft mouth poking against her shoulder, she wasn't going to stand up. She never wanted to stand up again. She never wanted to be confronted with the truth, which was so hard.

"Morgana?" she heard an asking male voice in the distance, after a time which could both have lasted minutes or hours.

She knew that voice. She despised that voice, and when she looked up, the feeling of hate was only getting stronger.

He had become a man, but he was still the same boy as he'd been two years back. He was still wearing his brown boots, the same loose pants, blue tunic with his characterizing scarf, and the same brown jacket he never seemed to take off.

Only his black hair had gotten longer, and he now had a beard, by which he looked like a grown-up man. But she knew he was only a boy. And she hated him.

"_Merlin_!"


End file.
